Hearing her voice always makes me smile. When I look over at her, she reminds me of a small dog, always feisty and headstrong. I know that sounds weird, but you don’t know her like I do. She is my sister. She is my bestfriend. She is anything and everything a person can be.
Abigail Linton Noll is her full name, but when my mom had her, she called her Abby. So the name stuck. She is at the bubbling, and might I add, bursting age of eleven. Twirling her hair in every imaginable direction, she looks down at her math paper, confused. I know she wishes it were summer, as do I. A few small beads of sweat line her forehead, creating what seems to be a small crown. I tease her; I call her princess. She smiles with her lips curled at the top; her tounge pops out of her mouth. Her brown hair falls past her shoulders, clinging to her pale pink tee shirt. The heat has made her hair frizzy, so she sloppily throws it up in a ponytail with a black hair band.
My mom gave her eyes to my sister, for they are brown like hers. Specks of green brush her eyes, making them seem almost hazel. They are shaped like big, round owl eyes, and I swear she can see everything. Her eyes can even tell me what mood she is in. When she’s angry they get big and fierce, but when she’s happy her eyes seem to smile.
Her heart is caring, yet stubborn. Liking to solve problems by herself, she never asks anyone for help. Abby cares for everything and everyone. It doesn’t matter who you are, she’s at your side if you need her.
Her interests and hobbies seem to become more noticeable as she grows older. Like wine, Abby gets better with age. One thing is for sure, Abby’s love for animals is apparent. Heaps of posters with cats and dogs cover her bedroom walls in her poppy, pink room.
Laughing is what she does often. You can almost always hear her before you see her.
Her smile lights up a room like a candle shining bright in a dark, desolate place. She’s one of those people that you can’t help but notice. Her happiness tends to rub off on everyone around her. Although Abby is only eleven, I know she’s going to be a heartbreaker.


Abby is what you call beautiful. Not just physically, but mentally as well. But that’s not even a good word to use because her appearance is so much more than that. Her skin is a sun-kissed brown, and slightly dry to the touch, from all of the long hours of being outside. Abby smells like a mixture of the woods with all the green-leafed trees, and a hint of my Bath & Body Works perfume. When I mention this to her, she looks up and tells me she only used one squirt. Although she has no dimples, her beauty mark on her chin makes up for it. Her nose is round like a button, but that makes her even cuter. The best thing Abby has phiscally though, is her smile. It fits her well, like a good pair of pants. Her teeth are still crooked from the absence of braces, which makes it all the more unqiue and one of a kind. Some days when I look at her, she reminds me that she is such a gift and a blessing in our family.

I’m extremely happy to be Abby’s older sister. Knowing that she looks up to me for support and a role model gives me the confidence to be a well-rounded sister. I love how she will always be there for me, and I for her.