I wrote a similar ‘essay’ years ago for an assignment. Tonight, I had the good fortune to be reminded of all the reasons behind it. I decided to share an updated version with all of you, because to understand ME, you must understand the influences behind me. And for me to understand my true self, I had to get this out.

     I don’t believe in miracles. I do believe that rational science, logic, even math, can not explain. However, the concept that something miraculous may happen to my life is just beyond my scope of belief. I do believe in the unexplained. For instance, there is no rational explanation for Pammie.
     Pammie is my sister. She is also my Aunt. She is also…unexplainable. Upon her birth, my Grandmother was told to give up on her. To put her into a home for the mentally disabled. Thankfully, my Grandmother did not listen, and took her home instead. Despite every doctor telling her that Pammie wouldn’t live to see 21, this year will mark her 57th birthday. Pammie has defied so many odds in her life, that longevity holds no mystery to her. 
     Simple everyday tasks now hold mystery to her.  Although she was born with Down’s Syndrome, a trisomy of one of her chromosomes that severely stunted her mental acuity, that is not  what has defined her. Her heart has. Pammie has an amazing capacity for love. No matter the circumstance, Pammie has always managed to love unquestioningly throughout her life.
     When I was a child, Pammie came to live with my family after the death of her mother. My parents adopted her, even though she was an adult, and made her my sister. I was 3 at the time. Throughout my life, Pammie has been a constant source of frustration, amusement, and unfailing love to me. As a grade schooler, my other sister, Gwen, tried to ‘teach’ Pammie to read. As children, Gwen and I did not grasp the concept of mental disability, and didn’t understand that no matter the effort, Pammie would never have that ability. So after my mother explained to us, at the ages of 5 and 6, we decided that it was our job to read to Pammie. To share all the wonderful stories we were learning in books. This habit continues today.
     In High School, after a particularly grueling day battling budding actors and stubborn equations, I would often come home so downtrodden that it showed in my every expression. No matter how hard I faked it, and even concealed it from the rest of my family, Pammie always knew the truth. She would pat the cushions of the couch next to her, and say, “Sissy, do you need a hug? Come here an’ hug me.”, and I would. Somehow just the simple act of sitting next to her calmed the day down. Due to Pammie’s remarkable physiology, she has shortened stature, a flattened face, mongoloid eye-folds, and the worlds pointiest chin! Since I have been five foot ten inches tall since I was 13, her little body only reaches my sternum. When sitting, she barely reaches my neck. So to sit with her, reading a book to her, or even just watching TV, she rests her pointy little chin on my shoulder. Yes, it can hurt, but it’s a pain I welcome because it makes her so happy to snuggle in.
     Now the ravages of time are wrecking havoc with Pammie’s mind. As she ages, her brain is now being stolen from her by Alzheimer’s Disease. Tonight, when reading to her a story full of her favorite things, unicorns, family, and a happy ending, she became so distracted by staring at her own hand that the story mattered not to her. She asked me why her hands were so little, and mine so large. I had no easy answer for her, so I told her that was simply the way God made her. Pammie does not grasp the concept of a divine being ruling the universe, but she has been taught that God loves her, and made her perfect as she is.
     I happen to agree with THAT statement. Miracles? No. But I’m going to spend every chance I have with her, and I’m really going to miss this one when she is gone.