The Fighter

You came into this world a fighter. As a toddler, you always wore your scars proudly,  ripping your pants off at inappropriate times to show people a set of scars on your inner-thighs that you referred to, inexplicably,  as your "hand-bands". You still wear them with dignity and beauty, baring the scars on your chest and back without a second thought, although I suspect you are secretly confident that you're detracting attention from them with your magnificent butt.

I know you count on me for a million and twenty different things, and I always make a big show of my martyrdom, lamenting to others about my needy little sister, but the truth is, you are so much braver than I have ever had to be. Every day I marvel at your courage and your success. You are kind and funny, and you have talent and brains and style up-the-wazoo- and you know you can network like an m-er f-er. You took a chance and changed your life for the better in a way that so many people would never have the courage to do and I am so very, very proud of you.

On January, 17, 1983, my best friend was born. 

 And she's still servin' up style 28 years later.

 Happy belated birthday Tia, I love you.