Just to clarify

About now you are probably wondering where this is going. Hang in there, trust me.
My relationship with my sister is complex and you need to know that as it will come in to play in some of the stuff that is coming later.

I don't think ours is a relationship that is incredibly different from others, it's just, well, different. We are different. My brother and I, though 7 years apart, were more "alike", for lack of a better word, than my sister and I. In fact, she recently pointed out that he and I use to team up and attack her together. This is partially true, but not important right now.

What is important is one of the ways that we were very much NOT alike. I like to think that I was more of the silent brooding type. She was "happy", dangerously happy, creepy happy. Ok, so yeah, isn't that sweet and what's wrong with being happy. Blunt force trauma to the head is what's wrong with "happy".
She went through this phase, the "cartwheel" phase. You had to stick your head out of any door very carefully and look both ways. Then, if it was clear, make a break for it before she came at you, out of no where. My sister, the spazoid, was doing cartwheels down the hall. On a regular basis. For no good reason.
My mom took her aside and asked her why she was constantly doing cartwheels in the house, and more importantly down the hall where you could get clocked in the head. Her response..."I don't know, I guess its because I'm just so HAPPY" Well the rest of us were NOT happy. She was an in-house road hazard. So, my mom suggested she try something else, like whistling, if she was so happy. Problem was she couldn't whistle and she was so darn happy all the time she almost hyperventilated.

Eventually, she moved on. She got over the whistling and the cartwheels. At least in the house.

I don't think its because she stopped being happy. She just found a safer way to exhibit it. I am fairly certain she still has moments of happy now but I am also certain it is safe for her children to walk down the hall without fearing for their life.

It would be nice to go back and bottle some of what she was feeling then to have in reserve for times later on when all of us could have used it. Sadly once those moments are gone, we can't get them back.