By Faith Gonia
For the first twelve years of my life, my older sister towered over me in height. Almost two feet below her eye level, I had no choice but to look up. However, our difference in stature was not the only reason I placed Lia on a pedestal. The tall girl who wore converse and donned tens of Silly Bandz on each wrist was pretty darn cool.
Why kids admired television characters always puzzled me. Finding inspiration did not pose a challenge when I had the perfect role model who lived just down the hall. As built-in-best-friend, she inspired me everyday. When Lia wore her hair in pigtails for all of seventh grade, I wore my hair in pigtails for all of second. When Lia tossed out a piece of clothing, I gained a stylish new addition to my wardrobe—the worn-out fabric might as well have been made of gold. When Lia auditioned for the Rolling Hills Middle School musical, I auditioned for the one at Marshall Lane Elementary. And when Lia started listening to Twenty One Pilots, I learned every track on Vessel and Blurryface by heart.
While she certainly taught me fashion trends and cool music, her impact as an older sister has spanned far beyond t-shirts and albums. Incredibly optimistic, Lia showed me how to tell a joke to calm an argument; how to smile even when you have a broken arm.
Playing Barbies with me despite growing out of toys, Lia showed me patience. And through remaining kind in the most serious of situations, Lia showed me how to be strong; how to persevere.
Today, after passing her in height, I stand roughly three inches taller than Lia. Nonetheless, whenever I look at her, I still find myself looking up.