November is here again and this means National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo)!
This will be my 3rd year participating in NaBloPoMo. Last year, I blogged following a set theme for each day of the week, and in the year before, I had fun with some creative writing based on the Daily Post’s daily prompt. This year, I will be replying to the daily prompt every day in normal blog posts (no short series), so time to get started!
Today’s Daily Prompt: Copycat
There are many things that I believe are “mine”, or in better words, “my kind of thing”.
For example, the color pink. Pink is my favourite color – always has been and always will be. Mom bought a pink dress? She bought it for me. Dad bought a pink toy? That’s mine. In my house or in my circle of friends, anything pink most likely belongs to me or is intended for me.
But in my house, I also have a little sister.
One time I asked my mother why she bought two of the same shirts in pink. She simply replied with, “Your sister likes pink too.”
I gave my mother an incredulous look. What was she talking about? My little sister likes purple, or at least, that’s what I thought she should like back when I was a kid. Pink was mine, but purple was up for grabs. Why couldn’t she like purple? It was nice – not as nice as pink, but still nice.
I didn’t like the idea of my sister liking pink. I didn’t like it when my sister wore the same style of clothes as me. I didn’t even want her to be good at the same things I was good at because those were all “my things”.
I look at my little sister now all grown up and I can tell you that her bedroom is all purple. Her closet is full of dark colors and patterns. She is good at math and science. In the last few years, she’s really found her calling in the field of computer science, and I see her identity as a person becoming clearer and more distinct as she continues to define for herself what kind of a person she is. I am proud of all her successes and I admire her as a person who excels in areas I lack in, but sometimes I wonder what she would be like if she had liked pink.
I think about my little sister, who maybe wanted the pink dress and the pink toy, but took the purple ones instead. I think about my little sister, who was told often by my family members when she was young, that she shouldn’t wear white because she would get it dirty. I wonder what she was thinking on nights we discussed our report cards at the dinner table.
If she had liked pink – if she had been “allowed” to like pink – would she be more like me?
And would I have liked that?