When the jonquils bloom in the spring, I think of her–my sister Helen. Maybe it’s because of her March birthday, maybe it’s because those first flowers are so welcome after winter and are such a cheerful sight. My sister was a cheerful, upbeat, lovely person.
Some people make the world a better place simply by being. She was one of those. If someone had a problem, she did her best to fix it. There were no halfway measures for Helen. She lived by the adage, “If you want a job done right, do it yourself.” Her home and her children shone with the love she lavished upon them.
Being a few years younger, I looked up to my sister as the fount of wisdom. I might not know what to do in a certain situation, but Helen did. All I had to do was ask myself, What would my sister do or say about this? Then, I’d have the answer.
She looked after me when I was small, guiding, protecting. She was there as I grew up, ready to listen. And, she was my friend. I remember a time, after our mom died, she and I took a short road trip through part of Texas. The bluebells were blooming. The day was sunny and perfect. We decided to check out some of those beautiful old houses we saw along the way. One house in particular looked empty and mysterious. Who had lived there? What did the inside look like? Why would someone just move away and leave a lovely house like this? Our curiosity knew no bounds.
We stopped in the driveway, got out of the car, and hurried up onto the porch. The window was clouded, but we peered through. Two eyes stared back at us. We backed away and beat as dignified a retreat as possible to the car. Lesson learned: some houses that look vacant, aren’t. 
She was dignified; she was fun. She was a practical person and also a dreamer. She was never loud or boisterous but wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. I grew up thinking she was pretty much always right. My opinion hasn’t changed. She was great at ironing out problems. If we could sit down today for a cup of coffee and a chat, I’d tell her how privileged I was to have her as my sister.
Today is far from Childhood —
But up and down the hills
I held her hand the tighter —
Which shortened all the miles –
Emily Dickinson
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