I love her the mostest!

Quantifying my love is not something I do, but incorrect grammar set aside, I love my sister the mostest.
The endearing term started when I attended college back in the day when people still put pens to paper and licked stamps in order to let others know they were loved or even merely a thought of,
I remember the days vividly of going to my dorm mailbox hoping for a stray care package anxiously awaiting my arrival.  Although I was the lucky recipient of quite a few of those fun little treats, I was equally excited to get a letter from my sister.   She was quite the writer and did a fantastic job of keeping me in the loop of all her happenings.  And she always signed her letters the same:

I love you the mostest. 

As I take a wonderful walk down memory lane, I am sadly reminded of why I am telling you this story.  My sister is laid up in a hospital on a holiday weekend waiting to feel better.  She is a private person and would certainly not appreciate me telling her story on my blog, so I will keep the details short.

She has had a rough year with her husband being stationed overseas and her oldest boy learning to live with Celiac disease.  While she so busily took care of everyone else, she neglected herself.  An ulcer took up residence in her belly and has caused nothing short of complete havoc.   She is now awaiting surgery to see if the doctors can undo some of what the ulcer did.

I am on my way to see her.  I hope just my presence is a mere lift to her spirits.  I enjoy my time with my sister.  If we weren't related, I would choose her as a friend.   She is a good listener, very helpful and dependable and extremely loving.  I honestly do love her the mostest right back!