Today is the 42nd anniversary of the best day of my life.

I don’t remember the day, exactly, but sometime on May 30, 1966 (gotta check with Mom to get the exact time), my sister was born.

My life would not have been nearly as good as it has been if not for Debra. In fact, when I find myself getting all nostalgic for “days gone by,” I realize that one of the people I miss most, on a daily basis, is my sister. Granted, we’re only two hours away from each other, but she travels every other weekend and I do just about anything I can to avoid traveling on weekends — at least over the past year and a half or so, maybe longer — so we don’t see each other often enough.

Certainly not like we did during our growing-up years, sharing a bedroom for 17 years, walking to school together, playing tennis and anything else that seemed like fun, ending up at the same college.

Happy birthday, Debra!