Sisterhood: Kaitlyn

Kaitlyn and I became friends when we were four years old, new to Country Kids’ Preschool, and playing in Teacher Sharon’s make-believe kitchen together for the first time. As we were each the big sister to younger brothers, shared April birthdays, and had an affinity for matching flannel jumpers and turtlenecks, we bonded quickly.

A year later, we landed at Bay View Elementary for kindergarten, toting our Disney lunch pails and backpacks and wearing matching blue Mary Janes. It was around this time that we started making pinky promises to each other. All kinds of silly promises. We would hook our respective baby fingers together and squeeze. It wasn’t until much later that I realized Kaitlyn was always saying “pinky square” instead of “pinky swear.”

Month after month, year after year, we grew together. In friendship and in sisterhood. We grew up together. It was fun and exciting and heartbreaking and painful. One day, our elementary school counselor Mrs. Andrews said, “God help the people you end up marrying, because you two have found life partners in each other.”

Kaitlyn is one of the most compassionate, loving people I know. She is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. She can be goofy and fun-loving or serious and careful, but she is always genuine. As a child, I admired her ability to read a Harry Potter book from cover to cover in less than a day. I envied her Breyer horse collection and her athleticism. As an adult, I admire how she articulates her feelings through poetry. (See her profile here!) And, above all, I admire her strength, resilience, and sensitivity as a human being. She has always been an incredibly devoted friend. She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a sister.

There have been hard years and happy years, and there will continue to be. But I find comfort and joy knowing we’re in this sisterhood “for the long haul.” We tattooed our baby fingers in January, with tiny “pinky squares,” to symbolize that commitment.

We panicked afterward, because we’re both like that.

But now, I love my imperfect little square. And, more importantly, I love what it represents. Kaitlyn, I love you. Today, you’re 30! I’m full of hope for what the next decade will bring you.

I’ll be here for all of it.