Dear Sister, thanks for setting the bar.

Literally. You are the first to go to college, learned two languages; kind of.

You are loud, but that is what makes you who you are.

You never shut up; I am not saying that it is a bad thing, but your kids are going to love story time.

You are very opinionated, but your opinions are always backed up with facts.

You try to make people see the way you do. That could seem annoying to people who don’t know you, but to the people who do love you for it.

By setting the bar high, you have made it possible for yourself to become an attorney at law.

You take risks that puts you in harm’s way, like posting your opinion on Facebook.

You justified your actions by making sure they matter for something and that’s cool.

Throughout high school, you continue to show your worth, National Honors Society, sports, and extracurricular activities, like Teen Court,

which I am guessing is where you became enamored with the law and justice,

even if one of your cases was someone stealing a piece a gum, and deciding how much community service he deserved.

Continue making something of yourself; you are almost there.

Teen Court

While my sister was still attending Berkeley Springs High School, she nourished her ever-growing social life through bogus activities that look good on a college application; such as, Teen Court. Teen Court is something Morgan County offers its students from ninth to twelfth grade. My own sister was a dedicated pupil of this establishment, where they meet every Thursday night to prosecute teenagers who have done wrong

At West Virginia University, my sister, Franny changed. She now goes by her maiden name, Janet, even though she has been Franny since birth. College may have changed her outlook on life or open more doors that allow her to became who she wants to be, a lawyer. However the one thing that didn’t change was her ever-growing social life,  just recently she went night fishing with a guy who drives a Chevy. Her social life was supplemented by attending the regular Thursday meetings, either because she liked it or it looked good on a college application. It doesn’t matter.

Since I was only in middle school, my life was directed by my Mom. So when the time came to pick her up; I was forced to go too. As per usual, we get there early and having to wait for what felt like hours for my sister to come out, I began to move around the car, which resulted in me seating in the back seat, looking out the rear window and

asking Mom, “how much longer,” every five minutes. My sister appeared saving Mom from answering my question.

Since we were on the other side of the road, she must not have seen my death stare through the tinted rear window because she proceeded to have a conversation.

“No, that is not true” My sister backhanding her own hand, but before she could make a valid point the guy interrupted her

“Why? Because you are a feminist.”

“Besides that, we as teen court attorneys are obligated to in the best interest of our clients to give them a fair trail, no matter our own opinions of their crimes.”

Her ever present Italian-talking hands began to clap to emphasize her point . She became too close to the guy’s face, I realizing that she would be a violent attorney. I noticed that she continued to talk to this guy, even though I was mentally burning a hole into the rear window with my death stare.  I decided to proceed from the backseat to the front seat; never mind the fact that she could make a valid argument for why she should get the front seat. I decided to take the risk of losing my hearing for a few seconds due to her clapping and buckled up.

Her conversation with the guy finally ended, when she saw our car with the hole in the rear window that was oozing molten skulls. I think that is what happens when you burn a window with a very strong death stare. She; however, proceeded to turn around and make one last scathing remark to the guy, and carefully made her way across the street, she probably picturing herself in crowded New York on her way to your firm. I don’t know where she wants to work.