On September 5, 1966--which was also a Monday and a Labor Day (a double entendre for Mother Lillie)--Sabrina Anne Sullivan rounded out the line-up for our family.
She broke the gender tie as the girls were now up 3-2 with no chance for the boys to make a comeback. Our family--started in 1954 with Scotty's entry--was now complete, other than the numerous animals that would turnstyle through our backyards.
Today, this baby turns 50, and we are in denial.
The youngest in the family is supposed to be ageless, isn't she? Sabrina kept Christmas toyfest going longer for all of her siblings. If she believed, we all got the goods. If she cried when hurt, it could be a nice diversion for a teenager who was on the cusp of some serious scolding for a totally unrelated situation. Little girl Sabrina had gymnastics, dance, softball--good excuse for teenage siblings to ask for a car in order to develop our altruistic gifts. Of course.
Sabrina and her older brother by only 19 months--that would be Mr. Shane, pictured below licking a fudge pan as he still does to this very day--kept us all young. That was their job.
I don't want her to catch up with her aging siblings. Give us that Danskin look, that ducked head with a shy smile, those sleepy eyes lying in bed with her "Whitey," the beloved stuffed animal that one night just "flew away." I want to relive hearing little feet hitting the floor, running from the room to get Mother because her prankster sisters were throwing up, which of course we were not (but mine and Sara's sound effects were excellent). Sabrina fell for it every time, at least until Mother did not think it was so excellent to be interrupted from the only 15 minutes of alone time that she probably had at night.
I don't want her to catch up with her aging siblings. Give us that Danskin look, that ducked head with a shy smile, those sleepy eyes lying in bed with her "Whitey," the beloved stuffed animal that one night just "flew away." I want to relive hearing little feet hitting the floor, running from the room to get Mother because her prankster sisters were throwing up, which of course we were not (but mine and Sara's sound effects were excellent). Sabrina fell for it every time, at least until Mother did not think it was so excellent to be interrupted from the only 15 minutes of alone time that she probably had at night.
Because Sabrina refused all suggestions, requests, pleadings, and threats from her siblings to throw her a big party, we are not celebrating together. Unlike her siblings who enjoy any chance to shine through entertaining or performing, Sabrina just left town with her family. That's what babies do--get their own way. She wasn't like that as a real baby. She was so placid and peaceful and quiet and even keel and compliant (as noted in the above story about vomit). Actually, today, she carries many of those same beautiful qualities, although I have witnessed her get a bit rowdy when her Atlanta Braves are playing.
Nope, I am not ready for Sabrina to reach this milestone. Partly because it makes me feel older, which I am by a longshot, but also because she is our last thread to childhood. To youth. To days of playing outside and watching out for her. Sabrina is our reminder of the happiness we lived on Hill Avenue before we all grew up....the youngest who handed out Christmas presents with an assist from Shane, the last to attend East Elementary before it was torn down, the last to get her driver's license, to go to prom, the one who drove off to college signaling an end to our family's public school attendance from 1960 to 1985.
Think I'll request an audience with the birthday girl when she gets home from The Calculated Escape, act like a baby myself and say, "Hey, your Braves are in last place by 25 games. Happy Birthday!" That's what she gets for skipping out and also for not being a Yankees fan.
