Marianne’s sister, to be frank, was probably the most annoying person on the entire planet. She was only six, never sat still, and always had to have all eyes on her. She talked so much that Marie once suggested making terrorists talk by putting them in a room with her and not letting them out until they did.
Still, Marianne loved the little meatball of fury, even when she got excited and pounced on her with the force of a thousand baby bunnies. Her name was Triggy, and she sure was something special.
Marie always blamed her mom for the kid’s wild nature. She would argue, “Of course she’s crazy! You would be too if your name was Triggy! Also, what does that sound like? Tigger! And who does she act like? Tigger, only on Red Bull.”
Marianne’s mom, a former Survivor participant (She placed sixth, but she doesn’t like to talk about it), always defended her hyperactive youngster. “She’s a perfectly normal child! Just a little goofy,” she explained. Triggy added her two cents by smacking Marianne over the head with a plastic baseball bat, giggling, and jumping on her back.
Marie’s birthday fell on a Saturday one year. Everyone gathered round and sang Happy Birthday as she blew out the candles on her cake. One by one she opened presents- a gift card to Barnes and Noble from her dad, a new pair of shoes from her mom, and makeup and jewelry from her aunt. Still, Triggy jumped around, licking the icing off of the cake and grabbing presents away with her sticky fingers to examine them. Suddenly, she disappeared into her room.
No one noticed until an uncle asked where she went. They shrugged- most were actually enjoying the peace that came with her absence.
After almost an hour without Triggy, Marianne began to wonder. When all the adults were busy discussing taxes and employment, she snuck off and searched around the house for her, expecting her to be in her room playing with dolls, or perhaps on the computer.
She didn’t find her.
Slowly, confusion grew to anxiety. Her heart began racing and her footsteps sped up as she searched for her sister. Marie searched every closet, drawer, and crevice in the house. No Triggy. Panicking, she ran outside, the door left wide open behind her. She ran around the house first, doing a quick scan for the girl. Then, Marianne thoroughly inspected every tree, bush, and playhouse.
Finally, right when she thought her heart would burst from fear, she found Triggy behind a tree far into the woods, sobbing. She ran to her, scooped her up in her arms.
“Triggy, Triggy! What’s wrong?”
Through tears, she stuttered, “Th-They love you more than me. They don’t want me around.”
Marie hugged her and rubbed her back to calm her down. “That’s not true. They love you and so do I.”
“Oh yeah? They don’t act like it. All they do is yell at me and tell me to go away. What would you ever love about me?”
Marie bent down and made eye contact with her little sister. “I love everything about you. I love your energy, your smile, your jokes. I love how every time someone says you can’t do something you go right out there and do it. I love how you always manage to make people laugh. I love absolutely everything. Triggy, I love every breath you take.”

(Every Breath You Take- The Police)

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.07.2011

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