My sister and I have had a tenuous relationship for most of our lives. I was the little sister who worshipped her; she was the big sister who wanted nothing to do with me. You get the picture? We grew up, and I moved away and got married. She changed from the self-centered bully who ignored me unless she wanted something from me into a giving, intelligent woman, and our relationship slowly mended… until she started planning her wedding.

A thing you need to know is I have several life-threatening allergies: peanut, mushroom, and tomato. Life-threatening in the way that if I am in the same room of any of these and breathe them I can die. Literally die. I almost have three times. I inherited two of the three allergies from my father and have had them my entire life; they’ve been getting steadily worse until they reached this point of complete anaphylaxis.

Anyway, my sister was planning her wedding, specifically the food, and her first choice of meals was Italian. Tomatoes and mushrooms. Her logic was that Dad and I could eat something else, and maybe if we sat by an open door we’d be fine. I repeatedly told her that if I was in the same room as these foods they could kill me.

She did not listen. She went as far as to begin to book the caterers for the wedding until my dad stepped foot in their kitchens and immediately had a reaction. Suddenly, she pulled back and decided that if Dad was having health issues she didn’t want to risk it because she needed him there. So, she went another direction.

Then came the wedding cake. She wanted to have it topped with peanut butter frosting. I spent weeks trying to get her to comprehend that even if she made a tiny cake for just her and her husband to share, if it was in the room, I could not be there. It took my parents intervening to convince her not to have it.

I love my sister dearly and I understand wanting to have your way at your wedding but demanding I be in a room that could kill me just so she could have a specific type of food… yeah.

(When my brother is six he decides he is going to watch the After School Special on delivering a baby. My mom tries to talk him out of it but he is determined! And since it is factual stuff she finally relents and lets him watch it. When it is done…)

Mom: “So, what did you learn about babies being born?”

Brother: “Well, first a mommy and daddy kiss a lot, and then the mommy eats a lot and gets fat. Then they go to the hospital, and they cut her open, and then they take the baby out, and then they sew her up with a sewing machine.”

This happened when my sister was planning her wedding. I was coming home from work, excited about going wedding dress shopping with my sisters and mom the next day. A driver ran a stop sign and t-boned my car. It wound up damaging the nerves in my back to the point I cannot walk very far or stand very long, and it’s very painful to go up and down stairs.

I missed the wedding dress shopping but was there when picking bridesmaid dresses. My bride-to-be sister called ahead to the stores we were visiting to make sure they had chairs available so I could sit between trying on dresses.

The wedding venue had a bride prep area with several rooms and bathrooms for us to get ready, but it was upstairs. She arranged with the venue to have everything we needed upstairs so we wouldn’t have to take trips up and down the stairs; that way I only had to go up and down once before the wedding and once after to change. She rearranged the seating for the ceremony so there would be an empty seat in the front row in case I needed to sit down.

When doing photos, if we needed to walk to a spot on the grounds, she would look at me to make sure I was okay to walk where the photographer needed to go. Throughout the pictures, she checked on me a few times to make sure I was holding out okay and didn’t need anything. For the dinner after, she had my date and parents and me at the closest table to the door so I could sit down right after we walked in.

I already knew my sister was an amazingly kind and generous young woman, but with all the stories about bridezillas, it really stands out to me that on her special day she went out of her way to make sure it was as easy on me as possible. My family is amazing but she is someone very special and I am very lucky to have her as a sister.

(It’s past midnight and I am on the phone with my brother, who is visiting some of our relatives on the other side of the country. I’m about to end the call and go to sleep when my mum’s cousin, who I’ll just call Uncle H, enters my brother’s room and asks who he is speaking to, which inevitably leads to him asking how I am doing. My brother has his headphones on, so I can hear Uncle H somewhat, but he can’t hear me. My brother and I are speaking to each other in English, but Uncle H is Vietnamese, and my brother’s Vietnamese is a little rusty.)

Brother: “Yeah, she’s good. She’s happy. She’s living in America.”

Uncle H: “Oh, that’s nice. How long has she been in America for?”

Brother: *emphatically* “Oh, she’s been there for years.”

Me: “Erm, [Brother], it’s only been one year.”

Uncle H: “Wow! What does she like there?”

Brother: *to me* “What do you like most about living in America, [My Name]?”

Me: “Oh, geez. It’s too late at night for this; my brain is mush.”

Brother: “Come on! Something you like about America!”

Me: “Um… I like that you get free refills here. Like, when you go to a restaurant and you order a drink, pretty much every restaurant gives you free refills here. There. That’s something I like.”

Brother: *in Vietnamese* “So, [My Name] says that her favourite thing is—“

Me: *cracking up* “Hey, I never said it was my favourite thing!”

Brother: “—when you go to a restaurant, and you get something to drink, they give you… lots and lots of it. Lots of… liquid. To drink.”

Me: “Do you not know the word for ‘refill,’ [Brother]? Or even just the word ‘free’?”

Brother: *laughing as well* “So, she just drinks a lot when she’s there. And she really likes that.”

Me: “You moron.”

Brother: “Hey, I did ask you what you liked most!”

Me: “Ugh. I don’t know. The things I pay attention to are really random and weird! Okay, I’ll give you another example. Here’s something else I like: you know how, back home, when a police car or an ambulance comes through with the sirens blasting and everything, they have right of way, but they’re expected to just manoeuvre around everyone, and it can get really confusing? Well, in America, when an emergency vehicle has its sirens on, everyone just stops and waits and basically lets them pass, and they don’t move again until the police car or whatever it is has gone past.”

Brother: “Interesting.”

Me: “Yeah! I know it’s really random, but I think it’s neat and I like it. We should have that back home.”

Brother: “That’s cool. Okay, I’ll translate.” *in Vietnamese* “So, another thing [My Name] really really likes… is the food you can get in America.”

Me: “OH, MY GOD.”

Brother: *also laughing* “Yeah, so, in addition to having lots of stuff to drink… there’s also so much stuff you can eat there…”

Me: “You little s***.”

Brother: “…and that’s why [My Name] likes America so much.”

(Eventually, Uncle H leaves.)

Brother: “It’s fine. You’ll probably never even meet [Uncle H] in real life, anyway.”

Me: “He probably thinks I’m a total fat-a**!”

Brother: *laughing hysterically* “He totally does!”

(I’m helping a mom load groceries into her car. She has a baby and a boy about three or four years old. The mom and I are making small talk when the boy speaks up.)

Boy: “Hi!”

Me: “Hello.”

Boy: “Can we return the baby?”

Me: “What?”

Mom: “I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did; I know you did! Can we return him? All he does is fuss.”

Mom: “But I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did!”

Me: “Sorry, all sales are final. No returns or exchanges on babies.”

Boy: “Aww.”

(I hope the mom was able to get through to her kid that babies do not come from grocery stores.)