Part 1: The Best Of Us
Before HP, the only other person on this earth who knew everything about me was my little sister. All the things that can make me laugh and all the things that can enrage me, Pourcher knows. Growing up she knew exactly what to do to push my buttons and get under my skin, then turn around and do or say something to make me forget all about it. I guess it’s the job of little sisters to annoy big brothers. Pourcher took her job very seriously, and sometimes still does. But it’s also the job of little sisters to teach their big brothers what it means to protect. What it means to worry. And what it means to feel proud. And those are jobs Pourcher still takes very seriously. Today she is a grown woman, fully capable of doing everything for herself. And yet, if someone tries to harm her, I’d protect her till my last breathe. If I don’t hear from her at least once a week, I worry and start blowing up her phone. And when she post pics of all her accomplishments, like her excellent grades as she works towards her Masters. Her certifications and degrees as she strives to be a psychologist. Her views of the World as she travels from place to place. And her diamond ring, given to her by a man she deemed worthy of her heart. The heart I stood guard in front of for all those years. I look at all her beautiful post, and feel overwhelmingly proud.
When Pourcher was about 13, all she would ever talk about is moving out. Not because she hated her family or because she had a hard life, she loves us dearly and for some reason had a new cell phone almost every week growing up. No, Pourcher at a young age knew that the world was bigger than the Bronx. She was determined to get out there and see it. She would do everything in her power to avoid being the stereotypical “Hood Chick” and in her mind, college would provide her that path. The chance to break free and escape. There would be no “Baby Daddies”, no chilling in the project staircases on a late night, no running from house to house under this dude and that. No, Pourcher at 17, left the Bronx, went to college, and never came back. (I had to pause here because I started laughing). Pourcher is different. She’ll visit her mother, baby brother, and her closest friends from time to time, but you won’t know Pourcher is around unless she wants you to know. She can ACT like a Bronx girl, dress with the best of them, raise her voice if you want to get loud. But that is not her. She would rather be in her small town with her fiancé, 2 dogs, and a rabbit named “Bunny”, than be anywhere near that lifestyle. Because she would rather not associate with a lot of people, she gives off the impression that she thinks she’s better. Let me say this, because my little sister would never say it, but she is lol. She’s the best of us. Me, my mother, July… Pourcher is our pride and joy. Destined to be what she’s destined to be, nothing short of great.
I took great pleasure in being the oldest. The one that Pourcher would come to for answers and help. But as the years pass, lately more and more, I find myself going to her for advice. She said something to me recently, right before I asked her to be in my wedding. I needed advice on what I should do about a friend. “People are who they are. Who they have always been. And who they will always be. Your friend needs you, and God put you in their life for a reason.” That little session cost me $20 dollars. As time goes on I’m sure it’ll cost me more. But I wonder if in her giving me advice about someone else, she was also talking about herself. Pourcher is who she is, and proud of it. Smart, caring, driven, determined, and different, very different. She has always been that way, and it will never change. Proudly she does her own thing in her own lane and continues to succeed at everything she does. And Proudly, I get to say, I’m her big brother. I love you Pourcher, Happy Birthday.