As For God - Judy Albietz

Tamar always made up stories for me. Since she was eleven years older, she often babysat for me when my parents went out. I loved having her as a babysitter. When it was time to go to bed, she went up to my tiny room with me. She sat next to me and told stories until I fell asleep.

My small bed was tucked into the corner of my room. Tamar and I leaned against the blue painted wall which felt cool to my back. She sometimes used her hands in a secret sign language as she strung the words together in her sing-song voice. No, I can’t remember any of the stories. That’s not important, anyway. I remember her hands. Sometimes she made shadow puppets on the opposite wall. I remember that she always had all the time in the world for me. My other sister, who was two years younger than Tamar, never told stories. I hated it when she babysat since she always teased me.

Tamar let me sleep on a little cot in her room whenever I wanted to. She taught me how to read the funnies. She showed me how to walk the three blocks to my school when I started kindergarten. She and I made corn stalk dolls together. One day she packed up her clothes for college. I didn’t understand that she would never really come home again. I was mad at Tamar for leaving me alone, stuck in the house with my other sister.

With Tamar gone, all I had left was Toby, a gentle brown cocker spaniel. Toby took Tamar’s place on my bed. Toby told me stories too, mostly about God.