This Guy, that guy or that guy

As you age your memory becomes very vivid. The other day at Marta’s home I was fascinated by the interplay between Jonathan and Anaya, it brought back memories of my childhood and my sister Teresa. My sister was in all respects the alpha dog of my family. She seemed take ownership of everything. At the photo shoot our first communion she kept pinching me and when I complained she told my father that it was I pinching her. Tere was a terror and she was always sure that my parents would take her side and blame me. As we entered our teenage years she always wanted to tag along. I did not appreciate her messing up my movidas. Tere always relied on my parents telling me, “Take care of your sister.” And I would have to take her to the movies and dances.  I knew I was losing when saw tears rolling down her cheeks as she mocked me. At the dances my sister took ownership of the floor. Like a queen she bounced to the rhythms of the cha cha, the rumba and boogie woogie. Not wanting to get into trouble I would tell her not to dance with this guy, that guy and that guy. Once on the dance floor Tere did what she wanted and danced with this guy, that guy and that guy. Heckled by my cousins and friends I found it honor bound to hit this guy, that guy and that guy. My sister walked home with the biggest smile on her face.