The day that Reagan Ryder took her first breath was the first of many of the happiest day of my life. I had finally become a big sister, and I wanted everyone to know it. She was the new toy I had at my disposal 24/7, so I was naturally very excited that Christmas had seemed to have came early this year. I wasn’t scared of losing attention, and I obliged to share the spotlight with her.  I came into Portsmouth Regional Hospital with my Mamie and Papa, sporting a Cinderella gown made by my other Grandma, but no crown. I wasn’t complaining about not having one, but apparently the nurses thought that a big sister should have a crown, and so naturally they made one out of tin foil. I was the happiest girl in the whole world, for I finally had another human being to play with, that was my size! She was so small and delicate, I remember thinking, she will become my best friend. I was so excited to have one of those.  In the years to come, we would make real snow cones, wash each other with the hose, swim at branch lake, and become inseparable. She was my built-in wrestle partner, giggle buddy, and barbie doll. I could manipulate her into doing so many things for only a short window of time. Mom, get your camera, because Reagan will be doing some pretty stupid stuff.

The year was 2006. We had another sister, Avery, who was a year old at the time. My mom was very adamant on finishing our vegetables at dinner before we could leave. That day was the first of many that Reagan fell asleep while trying to finish whichever veggie on her plate. If the vegetables weren’t finished, then first of all, no desert, and second of all, no leaving. Avery was never a picky eater, and I ate my nutrients fast by chasing them with a glass of milk. In 2006, Reagan was 3, I was 5, and Avery as I said was 1.  Reagan had done this before; once at ski camp where she dove face first into a pillow of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This however was the first time she fell asleep at our dinner table. We all gathered around to watch her sleep, curled up on a wooden bar chair, with her dinner getting colder and colder as her slumber commenced. The highlight of the story is that after this picture was taken, she was woken and still had to finish her soup or vegetable. Sorry, Reags.

Reagan was always there with me. We started the sport that would encompass our entire lives together, in late 2006. Ah yes, the days of swimming. The Ashworth by the Sea was the basis of my muscular definition today. But back to Reagan, we were two peas in a pod, ganging up against the world to take on the hotel pool and JJ Sabatino. The first pool we tackled streamline in was not the last, and the first time we jumped into the pool together, will not be our last. Nevertheless, the Ashworth by the sea was the basis of my fundamental relationship with Reagan on a more personal level, more so than just the “you be the green truck and I’ll be the barbie car”. We had something that was the same for the both of us, and it bonded us like glue even more so. If before we were elmer’s glue, we then became gorilla glue. We had a common bond, and that unified us even more. Avery was too young to be able to swim with us and Reagan was convinced that Avery needed to be sent back in a package to wherever she came from; so Avery was driven away from Reagan even more. I was the moderator in a sense, for I just loved have two younger sisters who loved me, and I still do love that.  Anywho, swimming. This sport consumed my life, and gave me some of the best friends I’ve ever had… Reagan included. Once she could relate to me on a more personal level, she opened up to me. She still does, too. Just this morning, she texted me while she was at her swim meet, and I at mine, wishing me good luck out of the blue.

Later in life, Reagan and I joined an actual swim team, rather than just lessons. With a complicated backstory, we ended up in 2010 on a team called Cannonball Swim Club, still with the infamous JJ. For the second time in history, we were split up, only to see each other occasionally. Swim meets were those occasions.  As two of the youngest swimmers on the team, we still made a big splash. At 9 and 7 years old, Reagan and I were able to beat teenagers on our team in breaststroke and butterfly. No, we were not really that good, but because our team was small and made up of people who didn’t swim for a primary sport, we thought we were the queens of the swimming world. That is until I qualified for my first real championship meet, Age Groups, when I was 10. At Harvard University that summer, my best friend Ellie and I tackled swimming without our brother and sister. Reagan was in the stands cheering me on, but we both knew that she wished that she could have been swimming, too. Age Groups drove a wedge in between us, one that has just recently been pulled out. She had always wondered why she didn’t make that same meet until she was 12, and I continuously since I was 10. The first time she did make it, though, I was the first person to hug her after she climbed out of the Jenny Thompson pool after defeating the 200 breast.
Reagan and I have loved, hated, hurt, and made each other laugh throughout my 12 years with her. Our story is still being written, as I do here in this memoir that doesn’t even begin to explain my roller coaster ride with her. I love you, Reagan, and I always will.