To sum up our history in a single paragraph is a difficult task, for Michele and I share a lifetime of memories, all of them warm, most of them silly. We spent our earliest years running around in the yard, creating clubs or reasons to meet in our secret base. We ensured our Beanie Babies received an excellent education courtesy of our teaching skills and our Mom’s extra worksheets and school supplies. Our creativity knew no bounds as we drew roads and storefronts for our bikes in driveway chalk or invented new games to play with anything at our disposal (base-to-base basketball was one of our favorites). Ceramics, dance, painting, drawing, needlepoint, crochet, sports, acting—we tried it all and so much more. And always, there was laughter—tittering at changing the channel to Oobie or Barney to see how our parents would react when they noticed; giggling when trying on ugly shirts adorned with pompoms at Walmart; guffawing after lobbying sarcastic quips at each other in a restaurant. Knowing Michele is a gift. Calling her my younger sister is a boon beyond measure. I am honored to witness this next chapter in her life, one filled with love and happiness.