No Friend Like a Sister

by Kurt Vonnegut
RIP 1922-2007

For my own part, though:
it would have catastrophic
if I had forgotten my sister at once.
I had never told her so,
but she was the person I had always written for.
She was the secret of whatever
artistic unity I had ever achieved.
She was the secret of my technique.
Any creation which has any wholeness and harmoniousness,
I suspect, was made by an artist or inventor
with an audience of one in mind.
Yes, and she was nice enough,
to allow me to feel her presence for
a number of years after she died -
to let me go on writing for her.
But then she began to fade away,
perhaps because she had
more important business elsewhere.

This poetic excerpt is taken from Slapstick.

This entry is not an endorsement of Vonnegut, (esp since I havent read any of his books). But I was intrigued to learn from the obituary that he adopted his sister's three children after her death.

Sisters are indeed special. I am thankful for my three.

And so, Christina Rosetti's verse rings true(ly).

For there is no friend like a sister
In calm and stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.