Speak for yourself, sister.
Today is Dori's birthday. She was the oldest, the favored child, the one who could do no wrong. I called her this morning, at her home in Illinois, and we talked for about an hour. She kept referring to her pleasant childhood memories. The things I can remember are mostly negative, but I couldn't say that to her. She said we were, "lucky to spend so much time together." I remember her going away, out of the house, for hours and days. She visited her friends, had sleep-overs, went to summer camp. I worked very hard to earn a scholarship for a free week at summer camp, and yet I wasn't allowed to go. I never had a sleep-over, at my home or anyone else's. I remember sitting outside Dori's room, when her friends came to our house. It was like viewing an extra-terrestrial; someone from the outside was right in front of us, but Alyssa and I could never interact with them. Car rides were very similar: we could see but not touch. So, we sat outside Dori's doorway -- mom had removed the doors from all our bedrooms -- and we watched and listened, until Dori begged mom to make us go away. I imagine it must feel like that for a leper. They were mentioned often in the Bible. The Bible was mentioned often in our home. I knew what leperosy was and how the lepers were shunned. I knew what many awful things were, and could relate to most of them.