Goose

I love Goose. No, I’m not a sickie for loving my wife’s sister. I love her because of the joy that she brings my wife and everyone in her family. If you know Moose and Goose (my wife Elisa and her sister Tracey), you know how much alike they are in many ways. Their laughs are almost identical. To this day I have difficulty telling their voices apart when they’re on the other end of the phone. A few years back I snuck up behind Goose and nearly playfully kissed her on the neck thinking that she was Moose. They also have very similar tastes. They wear each other’s clothes interchangeably when they’re together. Our baby girls have more than one identical outfit that the “sistaaas” bought independently of the other on opposite coasts. The words, “Ohmygosh, that’s tooooootally cuuuute” escape their lips on a regular basis. But infinitely more important than their endless similarities, Goose is Elisa’s biggest fan and best friend. They are so close it’s scary. Whenever something fun or interesting happens to Elisa, the first person she wants to call to tell about it is usually Goose. They easily share both joy and anguish. And because Goose is so loyal, so supportive, so encouraging and so considerate to my wife, that makes me one of Goose’s biggest fans. Elisa – the woman I love – is the person she is in large part because of her relationship with Goose. And I say, thank God for Goose.