My relationship with my older sister, Cynthia, was not like a family relationship should be. We treated each other like unwelcome guests. She and I fought like cats and dogs. We were growing apart. I thought, we were never going to get along and I was going to end up hating my sister forever.

When I was 11, my sister and I hated each other. It would be a sunny day birds were chirping and even the clouds seem to smile, but when my sister would come home the birds would flop to the floor, the clouds turned grey, ominous music would begin to play, the sun would just go away. That's how much I detested my sister; I'm pretty sure she felt the same way. My sister always seemed to have her hair up in a ponytail, it got really annoying. Can’t she do anything else with her hair? Also, one very annoying thing about my sister is that she’s so prideful I thought of her as a lion; but the one thing that irritated me was she would call me “Chunky Monkey.”

Once, I remember this one time I accidentally hit her arm and said sorry but, she just hit me back and she beat me up. At times, I would feel bad for hating her, but she gave me reasons to hate her. I would just be sitting down minding my own business and she would hit me in the back of the head. I do admit, I would bug her too. Once, she was watching a movie and I went and turned off the TV because it was a little too loud. She looked at me angrily and she got up pushed me to the floor and turned on the TV again. I got up pushed her back and turned it off. She got so livid to the point where she punched me right in the face. I was so angry, I thought I was going to kill her, but due to my small stature I couldn't. After that, I didn't even want to see her, but since we had a small apartment, we shared a tiny, little, cramped room and it was madness. Then things took a turn for the worst.

It seemed to be a regular day. It was about noon in our little two-bedroom apartment on 3rd and New Hampshire. I was at home watching my favorite show Sponge Bob. After 10 minutes of laughing out loud, my mother walked in and nervously turned off the TV. I look at her with a confused face and ask why she had turned it off.

She looked at me almost if she was about to cry and said, “We need to talk.”

I thought to myself, “Oh God, what did I do now?”

At that age every time my mom needed to talk to me I knew I was in some serious trouble, so I was pretty nervous. She looked at me with these eye that pointed out her disappointment in something.

I was very worried at that point, so I asked with a shivery voice, “Mom whats wrong?”

She quietly replied, “It’s your sister.”
Immediately, I thought of the worst case scenario. I thought she got hit by a huge bus or she was in the hospital or she was kidnapped or that something really bad had happened to her.

So I asked, “What happened to Cynthia ?”
She got teary-eyed again and said, “Well, Cynthia... is pregnant.”
My jaw dropped to the floor. I had an instant confused reaction. I had an enormous amount of questions. How far along is she? When is she due? Is she going to move in with her boyfriend? Does my dad know? I was disappointed at her and she realized it.






You would think that Natalia being pregnant would change her but in actuality she got worse. The fact that she was 15 and pregnant gave her the upper hand, so she took advantage of the fact that I couldn't hit her back. That meant, that she could hit me and name call me but I could not fight back because it would upset the baby.


However, one day her constant moodiness got on my last nerve. I shoved her against the wall and screamed, “I wish you and that baby would and leave me alone!”

I could see in her face that those words got to her. At that moment I thought of that famous saying, “Sometimes words can hurt more that a tightly balled fist.” I felt extremely terrible because I knew it was not her fault she was incredibly moody. That day I realized I had to change for the better. Every time that I noticed she was going to fight with me I would leave the room. I guess she got the hint that I didn't want to fight anymore.

In time, the fights were less often and less violent. Instead, we learned to get along. Pretty soon, we did everything together. In a way, she became my best friend and I love my sister now.
I look up to my sister. She’s my hero. She was a single mother at the age of 15 supporting her son and herself. She is so strong. I guess what I’m trying to say is even though we fought a lot, even through all the madness she was still my sister.