If you’re related to me and your name is Kris, you may need a tissue or ten.
The 214th day of 2026 happens to be National Sisters Day. I know this because…Google.
So, in case you don’t feel like counting the days (or Googling), National Sisters Day is Sunday, August 2. It is always celebrated on the first Sunday of August.
Fortunately for me, I have a sister. Otherwise, this would be a very weird post.
So today I’m writing in honor of my awesome big sister, Kris.
We haven’t always been close. We shared a bedroom growing up, which meant about 15 years of living together…followed by roughly 15 years of recovering from it.
Honestly, I think that’s a pretty accurate timeline.
I’m sure everyone thinks their sister is the BEST, but mine actually is. I try not to brag about it too often because I don’t want anyone to steal her away.
We weren’t especially close until we both had kids, but I think that happens with a lot of siblings.
Kris is five years older than me, so when we were growing up, we didn’t have much in common. Five years is a huge age difference when you’re 5, 10, 15, or 50.
It’s possible I was an annoying little sister…but since there is no proof, I can neither confirm nor deny those allegations.
In June 2025, Kris and I took a two-week Holland America cruise around the British Isles. I had originally planned to share a cabin with a friend, but when those plans changed, I asked Kris if she’d like to come instead.
She immediately said yes.
Because I have celiac disease and a long list of food restrictions, we decided to do a shorter “trial run” first. So, in August 2024, we took a seven-day Alaskan cruise with Holland America.
It was a trial cruise on several levels. Kris and I hadn’t shared a room in about 35 years, and sharing one as kids hadn’t exactly brought out the best in either of us.
Were we going to argue and nitpick? Was she going to vomit on my beloved Strawberry Shortcake doll? Were we going to roll around on the ground and beat the crap out of each other?
(Oops…sorry, wrong sibling. That’s a Dave story for another day.)
I think if I had to tell one story that sums up our relationship, it would be the Strawberry Shortcake one, so here it is:
Kris and I had bunk beds growing up. She slept on the top bunk and I on the bottom. Strawberry Shortcake and her friends slept in a shoebox on the floor near the head of the bed. One night, Kris didn’t feel well and leaned over the side of the upper bunk and vomited…all over my Strawberry Shortcake dolls. All over them…
I was horrified. My mum assured me that she could clean them, but no amount of soaking, scrubbing, or shampooing could help Strawberry Shortcake regain her sweet strawberry smell. Poor Strawberry Shortcake was ruined, and I no longer enjoyed sniffing her head.
Fast forward 40-ish years. We were on our cruise in Alaska, and I had a reaction to the seasickness patch. We came back from dinner one of our first few nights, and I didn’t feel well, so I lay down. We were trying to figure out if I’d been glutened when I jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I was violently ill.
When I came out, Kris went into the bathroom to check if we needed housekeeping to come clean it up. She came out wiping her new toiletry bag, asking how I had managed to hit every surface, including her bag.
I looked at her with a straight face and said, “That’s for Strawberry Shortcake.”
We laughed so hard. In that situation, it was probably the funniest thing I could have said.
Kris called customer services, explained the situation, and was told they would send someone up.
A little while later, there was a knock on our door. Several men in hazmat suits carrying small vacuums were at the door…they had come to clean the bathroom.
For many, many years, I have dragged out the Strawberry Shortcake story whenever I felt the need to act insulted or indignant about something, and we always laugh about it. But now that I have “anointed” her new toiletry bag, maybe I no longer have that right…or do I?
Strawberry Shortcake was ruined and had to be thrown away…or at least I hope she was. My mum tended to donate toys to the local Salvation Army. Who knows? Some child may have become the proud owner of a vomit-scented doll.
Despite the age difference (and the ruination of poor Vomitberry Shortcake), we have become very close over the years. We’ve become more than just sisters; we are good friends, travel buddies, and confidants. Looking back, I think those rocky spots have strengthened our bond.
Well…except Strawberry Shortcake. I’m pretty sure we could have done without that sacrifice.
Kris, I don’t think we have a ton in common now either. You love hosting family get-togethers (ugh, no thanks) and cooking (big nope for me).
Luckily for me, your love of cooking and baking has extended to gluten-free. You have learned to make many recipes gluten-free and are extremely careful about cross-contamination. When you host family gatherings, you make almost everything gluten-free. You do it so that I can eat just about everything at the party safely. This is just one of the many ways you show your love without saying a word.
It’s one thing to tell someone you love them. It’s another to show them. Actions like that say “I love you” without saying a word.
I could find 250 ways we’re different from each other. But I can think of some important ways we’re very similar.
We agree on a few major things:
The universe could not have given you a better younger sister. (Me!)
I’m very funny.
You’re going to tell me I’m ridiculous when you read that list, but deep down, you know I’m right. After all, I’m always right.
So, to my wonderful sister, thank you for everything you do and everything you add to my life. I’m so grateful to call you my friend, travel buddy, co-conspirator, and confidante. But most of all, I’m proud to call you my sister.
Happy National Sisters Day. I love you!
If this story made you smile, click the Like button! Then tell me in the comments: Do you have a sibling story that your family still talks about years later? I’d love to hear it!
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