Cookies and Combat

When we were little, we used to create escape plans from our bedroom down the hall to the kitchen in order to steal cookies late at night. It was an all-hands-on-deck kind of effort. Everyone played a role. “You— listen for any sign of life coming from mom and dad’s room.” “You— grab as many cookies as you can, and if worse comes to worse, make a run for it.”

We knew which floor boards squeaked the loudest, which lights shone too bright, and how to turn the knob on the cabinet door just enough to avoid it creaking. There weren’t any red lasers waiting to sever a limb, but we acted like these were do or die missions.

My sister was always the one we sent out to combat. She was our first line of defense, and she owned that role through and through. I was behind the scenes, devising the plan, calculating which movements to make, but when it came down to it, Marisa was who we had to rely on to get the job done.

The nights we sent her into the war zone, I waited in my room, behind the door, praying she’d make it back in one piece. She’d tip-toe down the hall, look left and right, and step into the kitchen to carry out the plan. The moment she turned right into the kitchen, I’d lose sight of her. I’d have nothing left to do but hold my breath and hope to God I didn’t hear the cabinet door squeak or worse, a cookie drop on the floor.

I don’t think there was one time my sister didn’t successfully complete a mission. It was routine for her to stuff cookies in both of her pockets and carry as many as she could in her hands. Racing back to our bedroom, we’d grin ear to ear and relish in the feeling of triumph. We outsmarted our enemy once again.

Little did I know, my sister would be the first line of defense in every battle and war we fought from the moment we stole cookies from our cabinet to the moments we will take to the grave together. It was never a question of who would walk into the line of fire. It was only a question of how.

From time to time I think about what my life would look like if I didn’t have a sister. Who would have paved the way for me? Who would have taken the heat for all the “firsts” that I never got caught doing? Who would have taught me that if I want something bad enough, there is nothing— nothing— that should hold me back? I know I’m a combination of nature and nurture, but if I didn’t have my sister pioneering the way, I can say with full confidence I would not be who I am today.

I was protected by a sister who had to navigate the seas all on her own, and I can see how the feeling of reassurance in any situation has manifested in my everyday life just from having an older sister. She protected me even when she didn’t know it. She took the brunt of situations long before I understood them. I have always had this baseline layer of “I am going to be okay”, and I don’t think it’s because I have a bubble of armor around me. I think it’s because if I have to defeat a villain, I know my sister will be there waiting with a shield. That’s what having a sister has meant to me. The world could come crumbling down around me, and I know I’d never be buried alone.

My sister has taught me that being self-sufficient and independent are incredibly useful skills to have, but had I not had a sister who showed me how to suit up and walk into flames like I asked for fire, then I’d have fallen asleep every night with the taste of bitterness on my tongue instead of sweetness.

Our do or die missions weren’t just about stealing cookies from the cabinet. They were about forming an alliance that runs deeper and stronger than any war we could ever find ourselves in. We may have started off devising plans so that we could eat some late night treats, but what I learned is that when you risk it for the biscuit, what determines whether you eat like a king or not, is who you have on your side. Even though we wouldn’t have fallen asleep hungry, my sister knew there was more out there for us— that the only thing between her and what we wanted was relentless pursuit, full confidence, and a soldier waiting for her at home.