Dear Cassie,
I know you hate to be called that. It’s childish, and you prefer Cassandra now. I know you’re worrying if your dream school will accept you. Of course it will. You are smart, smarter than me.
When I brought home an ‘A’, you brought home an ‘A+’. When I could name any given state, you could name any given capital. When I got a silver medal, it’s because you won the gold.
I’m in second place.
When we raced around the yard, you were first, I was second. You were born first; I was born second, two years after you.
Can you believe for two years there was no one to be second place for you?
You were always first. First to talk, first to walk, first to ride a bike, first to learn to swim, first to go to sleepaway camp, first to get braces, first to stay home alone. You were the first to wear actual heels, go on a date, get a job.
I still can’t drive, but you can.
But now I’ve branched out. You’ll be the first to go to college; I’ll be the first Olympian of the family. You’ll accept your diploma in four years, a few months later; I’ll be accepting my gold medal.
Maybe being first is part of being the oldest sister.
But I’m ready to be first place.
With Love,
Rachel