esmé

Esmé is my older sister. She was born in Duluth, Minnesota at the hospital. My parents moved to Switzerland with her when she was one and so Esmé grew up between cultures. As a child she was very awake. She did not sleep through the night until she was five and would resist naps with every fiber in her body. She loved going for walks in the stroller and when her eyes would start getting heavy she would groan “walk a bit” as a last resort to stay awake. She was a beautiful child with sunny blonde hair and eyes that beamed with curiosity. As a pre-teen she was interested in sports and she would play soccer with the boys. As a result, she was bullied for not conforming to an otherwise very traditional society. Spelling these words out and imagining little Esmé getting picked on crushes my heart to this day.

As a teenager Esmé was rebellious. She attended rap concerts and snuck out of the house on a regular basis as a thirteen year old. At one point, my mother cried everyday for months on end and Esmé lost the privilege of having a bedroom door, and with it privacy. And then we moved to the states and Esmé continued to rebel but just for a little. She joined the girls soccer team, choir, and musicals. Where in Switzerland a teacher once told her she wouldn’t amount to anything, as a sophomore Esmé excelled academically. She went to college in the Midwest and learned Arabic, wrestled with her identity, and got engaged to her high school sweetheart. Esmé graduated with honors and married Terry and they moved [back] to Switzerland. Here Esmé worked to help integrate some of the most at risk Syrian refugees. I would listen to Esmé speak on the telephone with great compassion and empathy in a language I knew not how to say hello in, to people who were in very vulnerable positions, on a very regular basis. Esmé really does the hard work to fight and care for the the underdogs of the world. Her and Terry moved back to the states where she worked for Boston Health Care for the Homeless as a coach helping homeless patients receive care. I once picked her up with a car from work on a corner full of people I’m ashamed to admit I would likely hurry past on most days. About a year ago Esmé and Terry moved to Maine so that Esmé could go to a specific nursing school. And then they started a family.

Esmé makes up words and phrases and uses them with a hand full of people as greetings or comedic eruptions. When she thinks no one is around she puts in her headphones and skips across the room or down a hallway, over and over. She is strong willed, tough, and incredibly sensitive at the same time. When we were kids Esmé was always in my corner, stood up for me, celebrated me, and let me be vulnerable. She encouraged me to join chorus, cheered for me on the soccer field, and let me forget my wrongdoings. Being a brother to Esmé is a privilege. Watching her become a mother is a great joy.