Today is my baby sister Genny’s birthday. She is the real deal, and I love her sooooo much, it hurts just a tad. Every year I get better acquainted with the young woman she has become, and so every year I fall a little more in love with her. If you know Gen, then you know what I mean. She is a number crunching, book devouring, roller derby skating, wave making, bungalow buying, friendship nurturing, world traveling force of nature. And I was there when she was born. You’re welcome, world, is what Im trying to say.
I originally posted my version of Gen’s birth story here two years ago, and if you’ll indulge me I am rebooting it today. http://thelazyw.blogspot.com/2012/01/twenty-nine-years-ago-yesterday.html
Happy Birthday sweet girl. I would love you forever even if I didn’t have to.
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For some wonderful reason my parents decided to invite me to be part of the new baby’s birth whenever it finally happened. Our sweet Grandma Stubbs, who lived just five blocks away, was all set to watch over the little ones at home, and my parents’ friend Debbie and I were to be included in the hospital business. I was extremely happy about this plan, you guys. Anything to make me feel like one of the adults, you know?
Then I got a glimpse of the gross ropy alien umbilical cord, gagged a little in my throat, and turned back to face front.
I remember very few details after that except arriving at the emergency room drive up doors. Dad escorted Mom with the baby girl and several happy nurses into the cavernous mouth of the hospital, and Debbie and I were on our own for a while. Family legend has it that Debbie fainted at the hospital! I wish I had more of that story for you. But I was only nine years old, and quite sleepy by then.
All was well. Both Mom and Genny were healthy and perfect, and that Subaru would go down in history for sure. I wonder if Dad ever drives west on the Expressway without thinking of that night. Another family legend is that we almost named Genny “Toni” because she was born directly across from an Italian restaurant, Tony’s Vi Aroma. But instead she became Genevieve Michelle Dunaway, and when I returned to fourth grade to tell the story I proudly said her name was Guinevere. Everyone believed me.