Wednesday, April 10, 2019 // The Statement
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Finntan Storer
statement

THE MICHIGAN DAILY | APRIL 3, 2019

W 
 

e parked in front of that 
pristine white building with 
Roman columns surrounded 
by trees where all the kids were lounging 
on blankets and blasting Jack Johnson. 
Somewhere over that way past the cute 
coffee shop,” I claimed to my mom as we 
tried to find our way back to the car after 
moving into my dorm and taking a stroll 
downtown.
“It was two buildings down, a right, 
another right, and 15 feet forward,” my 
sister Clara countered.
I really want to scream in her face and 
walk away when she argues like this. It 
exemplifies perfectly what polar oppo-
sites we are. I see the world in colors, 
sounds and emotion (I even cry in the 
first few minutes of “Frozen” every time). 
Meanwhile, she’s meticulous, practical 
and painfully literal. She’s very straight 
edge and sees an answer to everything. 
I’ve always been the creative one who 
loves reading and writing, and she’s 
always been the science and math whiz. 
I’m the social one, or as she would say, the 
loud one. I take laps around rooms to talk 
to everyone and laugh so loudly I can be 
heard across the room. She’s extremely 
shy and introverted, usually waiting to be 
approached but becoming extremely close 
to a select few.
If we could combine our powers and 
fuse into one body, we’d be a superhuman.
The problem isn’t that we don’t get 
along, but that we simply don’t speak to 
each other. Growing up, we rarely inter-
acted because we had absolutely nothing 
in common. We live our own lives, and 
because our brains are wired differently, 
it’s hard to converse. This isn’t what I 
expected when I was told I was going to 
be an older sister. I thought having a sis-
ter meant slumber parties and a built-in 
movie night buddy, and that’s why it frus-
trates me so much when I say it’s 2:00 
p.m. and she corrects me that it’s 2:07 
p.m. Similarly, she can’t understand why 
I’m always singing at the top of my lungs 
in the house or talking nonstop in the car. 
Her penchant for preciseness and her 
reserved personality contradicts every-
thing I stand for. And because we don’t 
understand each other, we silently agree 
to simply ignore each other. This has been 
our mutual understanding for years.
She doesn’t often come up in conver-

sation, so people in college are often sur-
prised to learn I have a sister. They’re 
more surprised when they see a picture 
of her and realize we don’t even look like 
we’re from the same family. I explain that 
our relationship has always been a bit 
icy. Growing up, my teachers and family 
members kept swearing we would become 
best friends one day and that we would 
look back and laugh at our younger selves. 
I was told over and over again that sisters, 
even if their relationship starts off rocky 
or they fight until they pull each other’s 
hairs out, always become inseparable...
eventually.

Yet during college, we still only gave 
each other quick waves whenever I came 
home for break. I didn’t feel the over-
whelming inseparability we were told we 
would develop as we matured. We didn’t 
text each other about our personal lives, 
share secrets and bond like sister soul-
mates should. I felt like something was 
wrong with me. Who doesn’t miss their 
own sister?
Then came the first update about some-
thing annoying our mom was doing. I 
would chuckle, send a text back, maybe 
even share a funny joke I had heard earli-
er that week. She would send me videos of 
our baby cousins, and bake maize and blue 
sugar cookies when I came home for the 

summer. I would drive her to the mall and 
draw out of her a couple stories about her 
friends and her new job at the ice cream 
shop. The longer I was away from home, 
the more we seemed to communicate.
During my senior year, she finally vis-
ited me on campus. We did the usual 
rounds of tailgates, Blank Slate, introduc-
tions to friends and Frita Batidos. We did 
everything we could possibly do on cam-
pus, expended all our energy and by Sun-
day afternoon, she was gone.
The crazy thing was that when she left, 
I really missed her. I returned to my apart-
ment and I could see she had left her hair 

tie on my desk, just like I do everywhere I 
go. My room felt a little empty and I real-
ized how much I had liked having her 
around. She had a reassuring presence, 
as she would sit quietly and keep me com-
pany as I panicked to do the homework I 
hadn’t done while hanging out with her 
all day. She had a cheerful disposition, 
always happy to meet my friends and nod 
along as I tried to brainwash her for hours 
on why she should go here for college.
It was the little things that gave me 
comfort. I liked knowing that when we 
ordered food, we’d be picking two dif-
ferent things and automatically sharing 
— that I would probably get something 
sweet and she would get something 

savory and we’d be excited to try both. I 
remembered that when I ate the choco-
late part of a black and white cookie she 
would eat the white part, which I didn’t 
like. We had scarfed down a large feta 
bread and I had felt no judgment from her. 
When she entered the apartment, she had 
immediately taken her shoes off because 
our mom would have killed us otherwise. 
I opened up my laptop to catch up on all 
the studying I hadn’t done when she was 
visiting and when I went to turn music on, 
I remembered fondly how much we had 
obsessed over One Direction growing up. 
Unknowingly, the weekend with her had 
been one of my favorites of all my time in 
college.
I now recognize that no matter where 
I live in the world my sister will be my 
home base — the person I know to regu-
larly check in with. I might have more in 
common with my friends, but they aren’t 
my roots. My sister is.
I believe that my sister, the straight 
edge girl who’s always certain there’s a 
right and wrong answer, was brought into 
this world the way she is so we could bal-
ance each other out. She shines brightly 
through her strengths and softens the 
blow of my weaknesses. My expectation 
of having a sister who would be exactly 
what I wanted her to be was never fair. 
She needed to contrast me because two of 
the same puzzle pieces don’t fit just right. 
Our differences truly complement each 
other. And honestly, two of me sounds 
absolutely exhausting and dangerous.
Maybe one day we’ll be those insepa-
rable and adorable sisters. Or maybe we’ll 
flourish and go our own ways. But no mat-
ter what, I know that she’ll always be there 
for me, and I will always be there for her. 
I feel for both the pains and successes she 
will experience in life. I hope she knows 
how much she has to look forward to, and 
how excited I am for her. I wonder how 
she will change throughout her college 
years and beyond. All of these sentiments 
I have whirling through my head. Mean-
while, we still remain fairly distant, living 
out our own separate lives while silently 
understanding that even if we don’t speak 
every day, and no matter how different we 
are, we will always be there when we need 
each other the most. Ultimately, it’s this 
unspoken trust that defines sisterhood.

Sister, sister

BY MICHELLE KIM, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

“

PHOTO COURTESEY OF MICHELLE KIM

