Sister

Sister,

The bond between us is profound.
It has molded me into the person I am today.
And because I have you in my life,
I am not alone.
I am better.

Little one,
With her bright, sunshiney scrunched up smile
that crinckled up her eyes into two thin black lines
On her glowing white baby face
As she smiled and laughed
And looked up,
And hoped to be like me.

My sister.

We dressed alike at bedtime:
Carebear nightgowns with pink elastic belts worn over them,
stretched to the max by our soft, warm toddler tummies.
Freshly scrubbed, long jet black hair wet and newly combed.
Two identical china dolls, one an inch or so taller
than the littler one.
Pictures taken before bedtime, courtesy of mom.
And wet kisses from you.

My sister.

I still remember soft ringlets
And wisps of delicate, silky tendrils
Being snipped by my clumsy, inexperienced
hands.
I hid your hair under the nightstand.
You loved your first haircut
Because you thought
you looked
like me.

My Sister.

Playing Barbie all day and night
for way too many years.
"It kept us off the streets!"
Our imaginations would soar.
Writing stories, singing mom's Motown songs
and wearing out her records.
Drama, heartache and love,
With plastic dolls
In our own little wonderland of dreams.

My sister.

High school and hormones.
Public school.
Cutting class and going to Boston for the day.
We ended up in the Boston Public Library.
What nerds!
Then off to FAO Schwartz, the biggest toy store in town!
We bought barbies
and said to the cute checkout boy,
it was for our...
Niece!
(who did not exist)

My Sister.

She got a boyfriend first,
I got jealous.
But we still played,
and laughed,
and dressed alike
With our, "I love Jesus" shirts
and flavored chapstick.
And she would watch when I didn't notice
And hope to be like me.


My sister.

Bras, makeup and tampons.
Dance class, recitals and hairspray.
Before I knew it, we were women.
Different friends,
Different colleges.
Who were we?
No more dolls.
Or make believe.
I dyed my hair
And cut it short.
And you stopped wearing chapstick.
Lipstick now, colors I could never pull off.
No more wet kisses.
We felt like strangers.

My sister.

Heartbreak.
Separate rooms.
Secrets.
Boys.
Fights.
I am not like you.

My sister?

An emotional gulf formed.
The love was still there,
But there was no denying
that we were different.
And life went on.

My sister.

Soon, we shared secrets again.
Dreams.
Love at last!
Will you,
Be my,
maid of honor?
Remember?

My Sister.

There was an unexpected silence.
I moved away.
We had to learn
to be.
individuals.
Courage to walk our own road.
It hurt.

my Sister.

Who are you?
Lies and hurt brought each of us down.
But still,
each sister would meet
the other
and help her up.
Off the ground.

my sister.

Though the rain will fall
and dark clouds block the sun,
I can still see
that you will always be-

My Sister!

With your bright, sunshiney scrunched up smile
that crinckles up your eyes into two thin black lines
on your glowing white woman face
As you smile and laugh
And look up at me:

and I hope to be more.
like You,

Your sister.