A familiar face appeared on my facetime. My sister, and she was saying "Good news, I am coming home".
"Huh, what? Wow, when why how?"
My sister said not to worry about a thing it would all be taken care of. She must have seen the look of relief on my face as my worry lines uncreased. See, my sister had a cushy job in marketing and had squirreled away hundreds and thousands of pounds due to favourable exchange rate and hedge funds, while I was still trying to get Slowy to mow the lawn and clip the hedge for chump change.
She was older, wiser, and probably mortified that Dad had designated me default head of the household in her absence. What are big sisters for if not to step in and stop their hapless little sisters from falling off her *borrowed* bicycle? As my sister seemed so sure of herself, I did not question it.
See I don't know how she would get to Auckland when the airplanes were no longer flying, nor pay the bills and handle Dad's vinyl revival obsession, cook dinner each night, clean the bathroom, mop the floor, take out the garbage, feed the cat and chicken, weed the garden, do all the laundry, but then this was my sister, she was Wonder Woman and could do everything, and hold down a full time job to boot.
Maybe I could sleep easy tonight and eat those chips and icecream Dad kept proffering me after all. It seemed the burden had lifted off my shoulders and the world would carry on, because my sister would be running the show.
Thank God for Big Sisters!
