By Catherine Foster, TIWP Student

I remember the days when I was too short to see my collarbones in the mirror. 

The sink was in the way, and it would take my tippy toes to see the logo on the shirt I was wearing.

So I used the stool instead. 

Ellie could always at least see her belly button. 

The vantage point from which I viewed her always left my gaze pointed upwards. 

Her shoes were too big to share, her clothes were off-limits, and the left side of the car was her spot.

When traveling I was given the pull-out couch, she had the bed. She had first dibs.

I couldn’t cut my own doll’s hair because she was the professional. I couldn’t cut my own hair afterwards, because she knew how to do it best. 

I told her one day, I can’t wait until I’m older than you.

I can see my belly button now, I can spot the imperfections I missed when I was too short to notice. 

I now watch her in the mirror without a flaw in her figure.

Even though I am taller than her now, my gaze has stayed the same. 

I now find myself trying to squeeze into her shoes even though my feet are 1 size too big.

We drive different cars now, but her clothes are still off-limits. 

I watch her from afar seeing that she has slowly become the professional of her own life, separate from the one we had consisting of Murphy beds and bedtime stories. 

Some things never change because I am still waiting for my turn to be the oldest.