In the eyes of my Harker elementary school teachers, my younger sister Vidya and I are practically the same person. Never mind the five-year age difference and the six-inch height difference. To them, the names “Vidya” and “Maya” are completely interchangeable.
At least once a week, my sister eagerly describes an incident in which one of my previous teachers accidentally referred to her as “Maya.” As aggravating as it may be for her to be called by my name, I can’t help but smile and laugh. Not only do my old teachers remember me, but they also see a part of me in my younger sister.
I distinctly remember the first time I felt proud of Vidya. After barging into her room and demanding to know what she had done with my precious nail polish, my anger immediately dissipated because there she sat reading, completely engrossed in the magical world of Harry Potter. For a fleeting moment, I was almost glad to be related to her.
I’ve taught her well, I thought. At least she’s inherited an excellent taste in books.
Now, I feel pride in my little sister every day. I am amazed that she, a mere fourth-grader, is able to hold her head high and maintain her identity with grace. She has never, ever settled for “what Maya did,” or “what Maya said,” and I don’t think she ever will.
My little sister is not so little anymore. She has to squeeze into my old uniform sweaters, and, to the immense relief of my eardrums, she has completely outgrown Dora the Explorer.
Long gone are the days when I was able to pick her up and carry her across the house. And, may they rest in peace, long gone are the good old days when she listened to me without asking questions.
Children grow older, and things change. My sister won’t always be young and adorable, and it’s frightening to imagine how our relationship will be in five years from now. At this point, I can only hope that we remain as close as we are today.
Vidya is learning more and more about the world with every passing moment, and I am so fortunate to be able to guide her and watch her develop her own personality. No matter how old she grows, she will always be the toddler clutching a stuffed cat to me.