text: My sister was an optimist to the core, and everyone loved her. I was a shy, quiet girl, while Marisa stood out. I always wanted to know where I fit, but Marisa fit everywhere, with anyone. Her only flaw was that she could be a bit stuck up, and teased me for years. I still loved her with all my heart. To be absolutely honest, I was jealous of her. She was a perfect girl who fit in the right spot, and I was a circle trying to fit in the square hole. The one place I outshone her was my art. I painted masterpieces, and she was a social butterfly with a perfect everything. Every day I hoped for a miracle to tell me I was going to be like her, but it never came. Every year, Marisa grew more and more amazing at everything. She had shiny blond hair, tan skin, and baby blue eyes. Everything she owned fit her and looked hot, and she never bragged. To others. To me she rubbed it in my face 24-7, and I was sick of it. Her comparing her golden locks to my copper strands, her perfect skin to my freckled complexion, her amazing physique to my average build. I loved to make art though, and won prizes for it. She had a bazillion friends, and I had none. I still hoped for a sign I was better than her, but for years I waited in vain. When she left, I studied art, and still excelled at it. But I still prayed for the sign. Every day, she would call and talk to me. One day, she asked me to come to her new house. I went over, since it was only a few minutes away. She opened the door and let me into her amazing house. She asked me something I had never expected. She asked for some of my art. “Why?” She just said “Your art deserves it.”Was this my sign? I nodded and she handed me a wad of cash. Later that week, I gave her a few of my best pieces, and she was elated. Each week, I went to school and did pretty well. I met a cute guy in college, and eventually we got married and had a few kids for many years. I lived happily, but never heard a word from Marisa. I meant to call, but every time I got distracted and forgot. A year passed, and I finally called. She didn’t pick up. I tried the next day, and a voice asked who it was. I asked for Marisa, but they just yelled and hung up. I was scared. I rushed over to her house, and no one was there. Just then a homeless lady walked down the street. I walked over to her and asked what had happened to the lady who owned the house. She just glared and said in a snooty voice “Who’s asking?” I told her “I’m Alice, her sister.” Her eyes grew wide. “Alice? It’s me Marisa!” I looked past the homeless-esque, and sure enough it was. I wrapped her in a hug and asked what happened. Turns out, she had done things, left a lot of men, and one of her exs ran off with a lot of her money. She ruined the rest of it on bad things. She sold everything to pay for her habits, but lost it all. “The only thing I never sold was your art. I saved it, and asked a family next door to keep it for me.” I felt deep in my soul that I needed to help my sister, to forgive for each mean word and save her from the streets. So I brought her to my room and let her freshen up. While she was in the shower, I asked my husband if she could stay. He was okay with it, being so sweet and caring, so I fixed up the guest bedroom. My six year old Rex came in and asked “Who’s the lady in the bathroom you brought?” I explained how it was his aunt, and he ran off to inform his sister. A few minutes later, Marisa slipped in. She was wearing an old blue dress of mine, and she looked a bit better, cleaner than she was before. We caught up, and she finally sighed “I had always expected a life like yours. But I caught up on a few bad habits, and it ran away with me. Now you, my drab little sister, have a beautiful life and a beautiful family and I’m a mess.” She started to sob, and I wrapped my arms around her. Just then, my kids came in. Rex offered a hand to Marisa and said “Hi lady. My mommy says you're my aunt.” She took his hand and shook it. “I am. Though I haven’t met you all before.” I introduced my family. Percy my husband, Rex my six year old, and Molly my five year old. For a few days, she adjusted to her new home. She started to look more healthy, and filled out more. She never tried any more of her habits again. She started to work at a clothing store in the mall, near the food court. Eventually she left the house, and moved in the house down the street. She found a husband, and was expecting her first child in December. I realized my prayers had been answered. I could be better, and I had helped her be better too. What touched me most is that all my art was still with her, hanging above the mantle. I still make art and sell it, but I keep a few of my favorites. Some I hang, but others I send to her. In every room she has at least one of my drawings or paintings. We always keep in touch. No matter what happened we were always going to be sisters. And sisters help each other out. So that's what I did that day. Helped my sister.