Present Perfect(2)

I love Emily. She has always been a great older sister. She would let me hang out with her and her friends, sometimes. She has stuck up for me. There had even been a few times when she took the blame for something I had done. She’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. It’s not her fault that she was born first and stole my thunder. It’s not her fault that she has been perfect at everything. I wanted to be perfect, too. I just couldn’t seem to get there. My parents have never told me I wasn’t perfect. They just have never told me I was.But, I could tolerate living under the shadow of perfect Emily, because even though she had everything going for her, there was one thing she didn’t have, Noah Stewart. I had him.

Noah had always been my best friend, my partner in crime, my protector, my soul mate, the love of my life. My everything. I may not have gotten all the beauty, intelligence or talent, but I got Noah Stewart, the one “perfect” thing I could claim as mine and I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.





I’ve been unsure about many things in my life except that I have always loved him. Every single minute of every single day that I have been on this earth, my heart has belonged to him. It has never been a question, never a doubt. The love had taken on many different forms over the years, but it had always been a constant.

There are experts on love who will tell you how to get it, keep it, and get over it. We’re led to believe love is complicated. It’s not the love that’s complicated. It’s all the crap that we attach to it and put in front of it that makes it difficult. If you’re smart, you’ll realize this before it’s too late and simplify.





I was born on March 23, 1990 at 10:57 pm. Noah was born on March 23, 1990 at 10:58 pm. Other than the one minute that had separated our births, Noah and I have always been together. We had shared all of our firsts, first teeth, smile, and words. We started crawling at the same time and took our first steps together. There was no part of my life that didn’t include him.

When Noah’s mom went back to work, my mom, being a stay-at-home mom, offered to take care of him while Mr. and Mrs. Stewart were at work. Mom had figured two babies were just as easy to take care of as one. In most situations, that wasn’t true. Two babies meant double the diapers, double the feedings, double the screaming, and double the headaches. But not with Noah and me. As long as we were together, we had been happy babies.

He and I had become such an extension of each other. My mom said we had developed our own language, like twins did. To the average untrained ear, it had sounded like a bunch of gibberish, but Noah and I had understood exactly what we were saying. Our secret language continued as we got older.

The connection we shared kept getting stronger as the years passed. Noah could read me like no one else could. He knew my thoughts, my moods, and my feelings, just like I knew his. As we got older, our instincts sharpened and we knew when the other was in need without a word passing between us.





Even at the age of six, I knew I would look hideous in it. The moms of all my friends were wholeheartedly embracing the conveniences of modern day America, like store-bought Halloween costumes. In 1996, my mom decided it would be a wonderful childhood memory for me and Emily to have homemade costumes. I blame Martha Stewart one hundred percent for causing my mother’s temporary insanity. Mom didn’t have a crafty or artistic bone in her entire body.

Emily wanted to be a princess. She had been taking ballet lessons since the age of five, so she had all the makings of a decent princess costume.

Mom grabbed a couple of Emily’s light pink tutus and hot glued one on top of the other for the bottom of the gown. The top was made of one of Emily’s hot pink leotards. Mom drizzled hot glue all over it, and then, threw handfuls of glitter at it. She topped off her creation with a tiara made of foil and multicolored marbles as the royal jewels. Emily’s costume didn’t look too bad. If you throw enough glitter on something, people get distracted by the dazzle and don’t notice the ugly as much.

I, on the other hand, wanted to be a cowgirl. A cowgirl costume was the easiest costume to put together. All that was needed was a pair of jeans, a plaid shirt, a vest, a pair of boots, and a hat. Ta- da, cowgirl! No hot glue or glitter required. I had everything I needed except the most important item.

Mom and I were at the store when I saw it. It was made of bright red felt, the brim was trimmed in white, and the word ‘cowgirl’ was stitched across the front. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My heart started to flutter.

I grabbed the hat and ran up to my mom beaming with excitement. “Mom, look at it. Isn’t it the most perfect cowgirl hat you’ve ever seen?”

“It’s a very nice hat, Amanda. Now go put it back. We’ve got more shopping to do,” she said while pushing the shopping cart down the aisle.

The smile dropped off my face. I ran up behind her, clutching the hat against my chest. “But Mom, I need it.”

“For what, sweetie?”

“Um…for my Halloween costume,” Sarcasm flowed through each word, accompanied by a smirk, and an eye roll.

“I’m making your costume this year, Amanda. You know that.” I followed behind her as she continued down the aisle, paying more attention to the items she was placing in the cart than me.

“I want to be a cowgirl. It’s the easiest costume to make. I already have everything except the hat. I need this hat, Mom,” I pleaded.