I'm taking a creative non-fiction writing class at...of course the University of Utah. Our first assignment was a riff on this piece. Here is my attempt:
Disclaimer
The following piece Into the Woods: A Memoir is a work of non-fiction. Everything in it is true except for the certain embellishments on the character of Kenzie Wood. Let me clear up a few things. As the youngest sister, she is of course the most spoiled: late nights with friends, sleepovers and the ever-present object of my parents' never ending praise. Soccer lessons, ballet lessons, art lessons. There is no activity my youngest sister does not conquer with a smile and a glint of determination in her eye.
At five foot five, she towers over my petite five foot two frame. I am forever obliged to refer to her as my "youngest" sister rather than my "little" sister. Even today, I am still questioned with a surprised, "I didn't know you had an older sister!" I smile and if the offending party happens to be a family acquaintance, rather than correct them, I whisper, "Oh. You didn't know? She's adopted." The looks are met with confusion, surprise and finally, acceptance. "That, that explains it. Well, that certainly explains it," they say. The healthy, round face, naturally blonde hair, (now dyed to match our own mocha dyed hair) and bright blue eyes have always set her apart from the rest of us with our thin faces, lank hair and size five feet. "Yes," I state. "We actually found her on our doorstep."
We repeated this story often to Kenzie growing up. Her nickname was (fondly) FedEx, due to the fact that she was so different from the rest of us, the only explanation for her existence was that she had been dropped off by the FedEx man. This story may or may not have been influenced by our grandfather stating many times over the years that he had bought our mother from Kmart at a Blue Light Special. At least my family had, in a sense, upgraded when we received Kenzie.
Though her characteristics in my piece Into the Wood: A Memoir are exaggerated to the fullest, my admiration for her is not. Larger than life, making friends with no hesitation, our FedEx is someone who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, score soccer goals with her eyes closed and of course torture the Middle Sister with her never ending supply of sugary pop songs from her radio. This happened so often that Middle Sister often stole the radio and buried it in the backyard, a talent she discovered at a young age when she stole all of our family's cordless phones and subsequently buried them in her sandbox. Middle Sister's nickname is Phone Murderer, but that's beside the point. Kenzie's zest for life and outgoing personality are characteristics that I, the introverted Older Sister with the nickname Hooked on Phonix, literally and figuratively still look up to on a daily basis. My exploitation of her willingness to be carted around on my urgent expeditions to India Fest, LACMA and the Spiral Jetty can only be described as schadenfreude on my part. Though her character as been exaggerated, there is no exaggerating my admiration for Kenzie and how much I look up to her. Even if she did arrive on our porch courtesy of a man in suspiciously short shorts.
