She was 5

I was ten and she was five that memorable Memorial Day we spent in a tiny bungalow in New Dorp, Staten Island.

Away from the streets of Hells Kitchen, a weekend merely a block from the ocean held all the intrigue, mystery and joy of a visit to Paris for my sister and I.

Earlier in the week Mom had made a quick trip to Kleins on the Square to buy her “girls” appropriate dresses for our trip to the “country.”

in the years that followed when the decades flew by with the speed of a jet plane, my sister and I often reminisced about the red, white and blue organdy dresses we wore that memorable summer.

Today I remember other things about my sister, mostly how she never wanted to be alone. Those words became her mantra and often difficult for me to understand.

She is so bright, amazingly so. I never could keep in step with her innate ability to comprehend and clarify every challenge life presented.

Her sense of humor is legendary as well as her ability to “work a room,” and make everyone share in her unique joy de vivre.

Yet there is always that undercurrent, the oft mentioned explanation that has been repeated throughout the years we shared not always in harmony.

”I never want to be alone, Anne.”

My sister Ellen would tell me.

And God has heard her, as she recovers from another of life’s challenges, not alone, but well cared for by an amazing group of medical professionals.

And today once again, we both recalled another Memorial Day when we wore red, white and blue organdy dresses.