For ages I have imagined writing about my sister. Today is her birthday. Her first husband died 17 months ago after she nursed him through pancreatic cancer. Since then she has sold the home they built together, refinanced their condo, bought and sold cars and managed all the infinite paperwork a death and resurrection require. She drove across the country, during the pandemic no less, to settle near her new grandson and is gingerly making her way with relationships and safe visitation precautions. Her new life and vitality are extraordinary to me. Today she is my superhero.