My Tomboy Sister
CLARITY: TRANSITION ELEMENTS | Moment One Hundred Sixty-Nine
They said my sister was a tomboy.
It just meant
she didn’t like wearing dresses
loved playing sports
did what she wanted to do
and didn’t let anyone stop her.
She didn’t like the word “no.”
I liked that about her.
Had I understood the word “pride”
I’d have told her I was proud of her,
my older sister, Nicki.
Mom said she
got her name from a TV commercial.
She didn’t like the name Nicole—
it had to be Nicki,
spelled with the letter C,
not another K.
It wasn’t until a few years later
when I understood what “tomboy” meant,
that I understood why “Nick”
was also okay.
She understood that boys got to do
what girls were told not to do.
So she did those things.
She played Little League baseball,
like our classmate Jenny did,
then later basketball.
She made the school let her wrestle
on the boys wrestling team.
She ultimately found her passion
—running.
She’s a Forrest Gump running fool,
bad knees and all
with the records, trophies, awards
and newspaper stories to show for it.
She also wanted to be an altar boy
—well, that one didn’t happen,
but the Catholic Church finally matured,
now they’re good with girls playing the role.
My sister was a pioneer.
