My sister is all of eighteen years old. Yet she understands friendship better than most adults I know.
I call her a simple child. She has few friends, few passions, and limited understandings. She likes jokes and working out in the evenings, and she likes to watch Modern Family and laugh along. But what she has, she makes it sparkle.
I see her with her best friend and it feels like there is nothing more genuine in the world. Even in these tiny lives, when little problems seem like worlds full of complications, they have loved and supported each other in the fullest sense of the words, stood by each other more than family would.
Her friend’s father is a classic, sorry, Indian parent: he wouldn’t want to talk to his daughter if she won’t score well in her exams. He constantly shows how disappointed he is in her. He makes her feel like she is a failure.
He lets my sister do the job of a parent.
She comforts her friend, tells her she is her sister, and encourages her to try her best, never mind the results. She reminds her that marks don’t reflect merit, that she will do fine just like everybody else, and that she will outgrow disappointments and do well.
My eighteen year old sister does the job of a parent.
Because of the kindness in her heart and the magic of her friendship.
Is friendship the truest relationship on Earth? Everyday, I think more and more yes.
Isn’t true love just the greatest friendship, an intimacy and companionship that surpasses the rest?
When I see the magic in my sister’s friendship, I can’t help but be moved.