My Almost Irish Twin: A Love Letter to My Sister

They say sisters are your first best friends, and in my case, that couldn’t be more true. My sister and I are just 18 months apart, what some call “almost Irish twins.” Growing up, that closeness in age meant we shared just about everything, rooms, secrets, fights, laughter, and a bond that’s never quite let go, even as life has taken us in different directions.

In my eyes, she has always been perfect.

She was the kind of girl everyone loved. Kind, graceful, steady. Her work colleagues even once voted her “Miss Congeniality,” and let me tell you, they got that exactly right. There’s a warmth about her that draws people in and makes them feel seen and valued. It was that same warmth I leaned on constantly when we were little.

Whenever I got myself into trouble, and I often did, it was her I ran to. Somehow, she could always fix things. Calm my nerves. Patch it up. Make it better. She was my fixer, my safe place, my north star.

We were opposites in so many ways. She would carefully finish every school project with diligence and polish. I, on the other hand, started a dozen things and flitted from one to the next, often forgetting what I had even begun. She was focused and grounded; I was imaginative and impulsive. And yet, our differences didn’t divide us, they fascinated me. Even as a child, I admired her ability to follow through, to shine quietly, to be so loved and loving in return.

As we got older, I’ll admit, I struggled with jealousy. It wasn’t a bitter or angry jealousy. It was more like longing. A deep wish to be like her. To be the one who had it together. The one others looked up to. I carried that longing into adulthood, quietly wrestling with my own insecurities while continuing to admire her brilliance from a distance.

Life eventually swept us into the full current of raising families, building careers, and managing the thousand responsibilities that come with being grown-up women. We remained close in heart but didn’t have much time for long coffee dates or sister weekends. Still, the connection never faded, it just simmered gently in the background, waiting for the right time to come forward again.

And now, that time is here.

These days, our moments together feel golden. When we see each other, we laugh like we’re kids again. We talk about the hard things, the joyful things, the messy middle of life. I no longer compare myself to her. I simply treasure her.

She is beautiful, inside and out. Smart, humble, wildly generous. She is the kind of woman the world needs more of. And the fact that I get to call her my sister? My almost Irish twin? That’s one of the greatest gifts of my life.

I know she loves me just as fiercely as I love her.

She is, and will always be, my person.

And oh, how very lucky I am.