Battle away or you’ll miss it one day

Have you ever had the most ridiculous argument, which ended with the slamming of a door, or the exchange of unreasonably harsh insults, before one person swears to the other that they will never ever talk to them again, while simultaneously tearing their own hair out in anger? I have had a few of those. And sadly, I am usually the one who slams the door, feels like a loser, gets insulted worst, or tears my hair out regardless of whether or not there is a need for such drastic self-destructive measures.

In my case at least, these monumental fights happen only with my sister. When we were younger, it was mostly because she was a big bully and I had just learnt to read. In order to better my reading skills as an eager second grader, I would read her diary, and promptly proceed to tell all the neighbours that my sister liked the son of so-so-and-so who attended Sunday school. While it would give me tremendous pleasure to spread this juicy snippet of news to all the aunties and uncles who came a-visiting, it guaranteed me many pinches and slaps and hours of pigtail pulling. At the time, dragging my sister's name in the mud seemed like a worthy cause, so I would endure the suffering and move on. But this did not remain the case forever, especially after I grew up enough to scribble my own secrets, taking for granted the fact that my sister was unforgiving, eager to take revenge and was armed with brilliant reading and teasing skills, far superior to mine.

My sister and I aren't kids anymore. In fact, we're both lawyers now and she is married, settled and expecting a baby. We lived several years on separate continents, and that drew us very close to each other somehow, in some inexplicable way. But just the other day as I was chatting with her, a big, dark, ugly argument stormed out between us about (believe it or not) anorexic supermodels. How this concerned either of us on a personal level beats me, but we took up our positions with the uttermost conviction and were ready to fight to our death.

But today as I sit at the foot of her bed, typing this article, after having spent the afternoon looking through her old pictures of us and all the gawky stages we've been through, I realise the value of sisterhood. The value of having a best friend who will fight with you like crazy, but only because in her deepest heart, she is ready to fight for you.

Fight with your brother or sister. Fight away, because it's good for you. It's good for you both to know just how much you can't do without each other. How bored, helpless and lonely you would be without each other. And how lacklustre your life would be without always having someone to bug at the end of the day.