"Marry in haste; repent in liesure." This from my sister, my confidant. I won't go into all the gruesome details, but having adult stepkids is hard, hard, hard. The fact that my husband raised them alone for 13 years after his divorce makes it harder. Eight years into our marriage, they still cling desperately to each other like Titanic survivors. Nuff said.

Now for the bright spot: it's my sister. She gently counsels me, and helps me laugh at myself,,,and anyone else I'm pissed off at at the time. I don't know how I'd make it without her, and frankly, I'm amazed that I did for so long. We were always so different. She's been married to the same man for 32 years; I'm on my third marriage. She had her boys young; I had my boy at 41. She stayed close to home; I wandered...a lot. She was the good one; I was the wild one.

In fact, a few months ago, my mother, who's 84 with mid-stage Alzheimers, was commenting on what an easy teenager I was to parent. (What?! I was an absolute horror show, and I swear to God, if my own child turns out to be like I was, I'll hold him under till the bubbles stop!) Thinking I'd go along with Mom's soft-focus  memory, I said "That's right, Mom, I was always the good one, and Liz was always the wild one." My mother hesitated briefly as a tiny region of her muddled brain sputtered to life, then she replied: "I never should have told you I have Alzheimers." All these years, and all the damage to her brain, and THIS she remembers!

My mother's decline and dementia has been heartbreaking, infuriating and guilt inducing for both of us. It's a horrible thing to still want and need your dead mother, without ever being able to grieve her protracted passing. At the same time, we have to continue making nice with the accusatory, paranoid, irrational, shrew of a woman who animates the corpse's body. The only gift in my mother's illness has been the new, improved relationship with my sister.

Sometimes my sister is the only thing that keeps me sane (though others of the husband persuasion might argue to the contrary). Not only do we share each other's grief, we laugh about it...and then we cry some more. But mostly we laugh. We may go to hell for making fun of a demented old lady, but at least we won't go to prison for homocide!

It's my sister's birthday today, and I've never in my life celebrated the day of anyone else's birth with as much feeling and appreciation as I do hers. Love you, Lizzy, because I know that you know how close I am to tears as I write this. Have a good one.