Good, better, best

Living in a family with 8 kids meant that we didn't have much that was just ours.

Bathrooms were shared. Bedrooms were shared. Beds were shared. And with 7 of us being girls, you can bet clothes were shared. But once we were old enough to earn our own money and bought our own clothes, sharing was up to us. And we did, most the time, because we knew if we didn't share, then they wouldn't share with us.

Well, once I got into high school and had my own job I found my true love....silk. I loved silk shirts. I loved the way they felt. I loved the way they looked. I loved wearing something that would induce loud laughter at a much later date. Love.

And I took care of my silkies.

These were one of the things that I would rarely share with my sisters. They knew if I did, by chance, let them wear one, they had strict instructions they had to follow while wearing said shirt. And it had to be back in my room promptly after returning home.

I was a little mean back then.

That's why she waited. My sister waited for me to leave for my early morning class to put on my forest green, long sleeve silk shirt. She was planning on putting it back before I got home so I wouldn't know she had used it. And put it on she did. Right before she poured herself a cup of orange juice which she decided to "accidentally" spill all over my lovie.

Ruined. Have you seen what pulp can do to silk? Not good. Not good at all.

I was so mad when I found out. I yelled. She defended. I yelled some more. She cried...maybe not but this is my story. I told her that she was going to have to replace my shirt with her own money whether she had some or not. 

Then Mom stepped in. "It was an accident. They happen. You can wash it and see what happens. But she does not have to buy you a new shirt."

What? She used it without asking. She was being sneaky. Surely there is a punishment for being sneaky. Sneaky and clumsy. Oh, and careless. Where was the justice?

It was in that moment that I knew she was Mom's favorite.