Little Sister
Hannah Rau I have never fainted. Megan fainted at my oldest sister’s wedding. As the flower girl, she stood on the stage of the church, until she wasn’t standing. She told me it was like floating on pink clouds. Since then I have wanted to faint to see what it was like. Twice, when I got the Meningitis vaccine, I came the closest I have ever come to fainting. I felt myself moving downward. My vision didn’t even go black. I was just sinking and at the same time feeling like I weighed nothing. My stomach floating while the rest of me was falling. I half wanted to lose consciousness completely, just to say that I had. Megan said she had dreams when she was put under for her wisdom teeth extraction, so when I was put asleep for my tonsillectomy I expected to dream. I fell asleep, then woke up immediately afterward in the recovery room. My pastor and my parents sat there waiting. But I wasn’t convinced. “You’re not real, this is a dream.” 22% of people dream during general anesthesia. I am not one of them. When Megan had her wisdom teeth removed, she woke up from the anesthetic and told the dentist he had holes in his head. My brother Tim rambled about how he was going to take my mother out for dinner, flapped his arms, exclaimed “I can fly like a bird!” From my wisdom teeth surgery I woke up sobbing. And I didn’t say anything funny. Bummer. I wanted to faint because Megan did. I expected to dream because Megan did. Tim was very smart in college so I must be too. Megan and I used to share a bedroom. I always wanted what she had. I wanted the little pink ceramic caroler figurine, the jewelry box that now belongs to me, the rose-colored glass shoe with no match, the Cabbage Patch doll with the blonde thread hair (I was only allowed to play with the red-haired one), the wicker Barbie furniture, the dream of the pink clouds. Now, I think, “It’s ugly. Why did I ever want that?” I’ll tell you: because it was Megan’s and not mine. I had nearly a decade to wait before I went through the stages – the rights of passage – they went through. I looked ahead to them, eleven and nine years older than me. But my own story of growth is not the same as either of theirs. I don’t dream under anesthesia. |
About the Author:
Hannah Rau lives in Trufant, Michigan and is currently an under-graduate student of English and a tutor of writing at Cedarville University. She enjoys amateur photography, piano, and gardening as well as writing creative nonfiction. She is fascinated by masterfully written descriptions that evoke poignant images, sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings in a reader’s mind. She especially loves classic literature and exploring the intricacies of words and language. |