I was faced with a question. Somewhat of a difficult question..."Are you an only child ? Are you the oldest ? Are you the middle child ? Are you the youngest ?" We were to split into groups, I put myself with the group of the oldest. I decided I was no longer going to consider myself an only child. Because the truth is, I have a sister. Calling myself an only child would be like saying she never existed. When in the groups, we were asked to write the advantages and disandvantadges of being in whatever group we were. I sat in silence, because I didn't know. I listened to the stories, and knew I had none. I listened to them complain about their younger siblings, and I thought...You don't know how lucky you are to have someone to share those memories with. How lucky you are to be able to say "My sister said this, my brother did that." Because one day, something will happen to them, and no matter how much you say you hate them, you will miss them. And you will regret everything you ever said or did to them. I sat in the floor, with my head bowed. And I cried. People asked me what was wrong, and, of course, I said nothing. I just listened to the stories, knowing I had none.
