In seventh grade I transferred to a new school. It was a much bigger school than the tiny Catholic grade school I had attended since I was six years old. The new school, Boston Latin Academy, had grades seven through twelve and drew in kids from every part of Boston. Not only was the school itself intimidating but instead of walking six blocks to school as I had since first grade, I'd now ride the train to school every day (or the "T" as it's called in Boston), walk past the bums and junkies in Kenmore Square hustling for change, and occasionally on my way home I'd have to push my way through crowds of drunken Red Sox fans as it was located directly across the street from Fenway Park. At the age of twelve this seemed a teeny bit intimidating to say the least.

My savings grace was my neighbor, Emily Cote. Emily was two years older than me which to prepubescent me meant she was the coolest person on the planet. She was smart, pretty, and athletic and I wanted to be like just like her. Emily had been going to Latin Academy for the last two years and was an old pro by the time I got accepted. The first day of school I rode the train with her and a few of our friends from the neighborhood who also went to Boston Latin. Walking up to that building for the first time I remember my insides feeling like Jello. When we entered the school it was a sea of kids and I remember having the overwhelming urge to turn around and run like hell. Then some older boy walked up to Emily and started chatting with her. I was stuck like glue to her side at this point, wide-eyed and speechless. The older boy eventually noticed i wasn't going away and asked Emily who I was. Then I heard the most amazing three words ever uttered at my young age, "She's my sister."

I had always longed for an older sister. In my family it was just me and my brother who was four years younger than me. I wanted to play with Barbies and he wanted to run them over with his Big Wheels. While I love my brother to pieces now, at age twelve when my body was changing, and my hormones were just starting to rage, and my eyes were beginning to open up to the world beyond my home and neighborhood, I want someone to protect me and show me the way. I wanted a sister. More than anything in the world I wanted a sister.

The funny thing is I don't think I ever really grew out of wanting an older sister. As I grew up I realized that the women who are my friends, my mentors, and my co-workers took on that role - along with the four bonus sisters I took on when I married my husband. They give me strength when I'm feeling weak, they are my cheerleaders when I'm feeling down, and they show me again and again how to be brave. And yes they even share their clothes with me.

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