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  • When I was two years old, my sister Abby saved my life. I- attired glamorously in my yellow footed pajamas- pranced into the bathroom to say a goodnight to my sister, who was in the tub. In my excitement, I leaned over the edge and fell in- pajamas, tragedies and all. Were it not for a sister's moved swiftly under my head, I would have been broken.

    When I was three years old, my sister Abby helped me knock out my teeth. It was winter, and we were in the park. She sat on one rocking horse, I on another. Mine wasn't working terribly well, and I demanded that she let me use hers. In response to her resounding no, I hung onto the back- to no avail, so I moved to the front, at which point the horse's head, in a brilliant collaboration with my sister, knocked out my two front teeth.

    When I was four years old, my sister Abby woke me up at 6 o'clock in the morning. She took me across the street to the yard of our neighbors and taught me how to ride a bike with no training wheels.

    Once upon a time, I slammed my pinky in a door. Anticipating my wail, knowing it would drive our mother crazy, knowing I would not be calmed if it was too late and would instead be stuck in the violently hiccuping stage, my sister Abby took my pinky in her hand. She started quietly that my weeping might subside so I could hear her. Look, she told me. Look, Devora, I'm wrapping it with a cloth. There is no cloth. What is she talking about? Devora, look- now there's a cloud on your pinky. Cloud? What cloud? And there, look, I'm zipping my sweatshirt around your pinky. Can you still feel it? Look how puffy it is! Abby, you can't make me smile. I'm hurt. Devora, look, I'm putting a diaper on your pinky. Abby, that's silly. Oh, Devora, I see it! I see that smile! Devora menorah bo-bora Laura adore-a, you're smiling! I can see it!

    She has a magic in her, Abby does.
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