We walked up the big hill passing those lilac bushes that flowered all white and purples in spring, and then along Center Street several blocks until we go to the overpass, following the ramp that looped up to the top and, watching the cars passing under our feet until we looped down the ramp on the other side and continued on that sidewalk past the tin building where our girl scout troop met.
After school, I’d find Cathy and wait, wherever we could for as long as we could, hopeful those three boys would give up on us walking by so we could get home un-ambushed. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
I don’t remember holding hands with Cathy. I do remember huddling with her under the big hill in the culvert when it was cold outside. We had our share of arguments, but as kids, we were always together. We shared a room, bunkbeds and a dresser. She was my little sister, but I followed her into the kitchen in the dark of night to find food.
She found her voice long before me. We lost and found each other so many times. She could hold a grudge, but if ever I was threatened, the warrior came out, sword in hand, and you better back off. It was the same with her patients. As a nurse, do not get in the way of someone’s needed care or you would face that sword wielding warrior.
In my darkest times, she threw the lifeline, pulling me from the abyss hand-over-hand until I could see some light again. She could make me laugh-that silly giggle turning to belly laugh that neither of us could stop.
Recently, we traveled to Sprague Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park on what would have been her 60th birthday. She loved that lake and would often walk the path around it after dark to enjoy the stars. There’s a grove of old grandma pines there. We stretched our arms around as far as we could, and I felt her hand there, fingertips touching mine. She said, You got this. Keep moving.”
Sally Gerard 