The Rivalry That Wouldn't Die

When I called Mom on Saturday, she said, "L doesn't call very often."

"Oh?"

"No. She said they were having car trouble. They got rear-ended. Maybe that's why."

"Hm."

And then I did the same things I always do to nurture the unhealthy habit of competition between L and me. I didn't say anything to Mother, but I was contemplating my superiority, my excellent record of calling Mother and L's many failures as a daughter. Again. Then I let it go, just a tiny bit. I let out a sigh and let a little piece of it go. It's not that L is without serious problems in the reliability department. It's not that I understand her neglect of Mother or support it. It's not even that I want us to be friends again. It's that I feel burdened by the 46-year struggle to claim my place in the family by knocking her down. I'm too tired for it. Too damned tired.