Wild Horses

I was a mean big sister. I loved to trick Hilary any chance I got. She was just so gullible. One time, I told her “gullible” wasn’t in the dictionary, and she said, “Really?” It was just too easy.

When I was about six and she was four, we were living on Sauratown Mountain, and the wind was howling through the trees. I told her that the noise was wild horses coming to get her. Every time the wind would howl after that, she would get terrified and hide under the bed. Years later, she told me tried to tell Mom why she was so scared, but Mom was too busy watching “Regis and Kathy Lee” to pay attention.

Side note: It’s weird for me to think about my mom at that point in my life. She would have been younger than I am now. 

Another time, when I was about ten and Hilary was eight, my friend Amber was spending the night. I got this wonderful idea. “Watch this,” I said.

Our school bus came early in the morning, around 6:45 am, just before the sun would rise over Hanging Rock. The sun was just setting, and banking on the idea that Hilary would not be able to tell the difference between sunrise and sunset, I came into her room yelling, “Hilary! Hurry! Hurry! It’s time for the bus! You’re going to be late!” And Hilary jumped out of bed in a panic, got dressed, put on her backpack, and marched into the living room…

…where my parents, who were watching the news, stared at her in open confusion.

Amber and I laughed really hard.