Happy Birthday Isaac

It's my youngest nephew's first birthday today. It was a series of events that culminated at his birth that caused my sister to confront me and then refuse to speak to me.
As my sister and I are still not speaking I have held him four times: the night he was born, my mother's birthday dinner, Easter and Ian's birthday.
I hate this.
I am still angry at her for a lot of things and she is (clearly) still angry at me, but none of it means anything at all. She is my sister and I should be able to talk to her. Even if it's only on the polite family level. I should be able to say, "hey, we're going to the zoo, do you want to meet us there?" She should be able to say, "Hey, the kids are making me nuts can I come over for an hour?"
We don't have to resolve this, nobody has to be right or wrong. We don't even have to talk about it.
I have more contact - more friendly communication - with Bean's stepmother. The woman who was my best friend until she fell in love with my husband.
And that is just stupid.
I have spent the last year pretending that I am too busy to care about this. I have spent the last year adding up all of the times that I should have been able to rely on support from my sister and feeling really resentful. I have spent the last year offering up olive branches and waiting for her to respond. (And then feeling resentful). I have spent the last year denying that I am really really hurting because of this. There is not anything else I can do to fix this rift... and I can add up all of my resentments and categorize my anger and keep pretending, but if she called me tomorrow may walls would disintegrate like sandcastles.
If she weren't my sister we would never be friends and I know that we will never be as close as we used to be - if only because I would never be able to trust that she wouldn't freeze me out again at any time - but I would settle for talking about diaper rash.
So happy birthday, Isaac. I don't know if you're walking yet or if you like things that flash more than things that beep. I don't know if you like to be read to or if you would rather eat the book and have your toes tickled. Your present is in the mail.