Hey lil’ sis,

Since the day you came into the world kicking and screaming, I knew we were going to be the best of buds. Remember when we were younger, everybody thought that we were twins because we looked and acted so much alike? Well, I’m happy to say that we no longer look like each other; not that either of us is ugly, but having our own unique look is something we should give thanks for. Even though we don’t look like each other anymore, I swear you act more and more like me every day; which is a good thing, I think.

This is the part where I’m supposed to give you advice about life; like you listen to me anyway. The truth is, I’m kind of new at this myself. Sure, I’ve lived on this lovely earth of ours for almost nineteen years now, but there is so much I haven’t experienced or figured out for myself.

Life is a game full of the blind leading the blind. You can be the oldest person in the entire world and not know the meaning of life. There are several theories, but there isn’t a right or wrong answer because the meaning of life is truly an everlasting question.

The meaning of life isn’t as important as what people make it out to be. Even if we knew all there is to know about life, it doesn't mean anything unless you make something of it. Try your hardest to live life to its fullest and I guarantee you’ll live a prosperous life. A brilliant man once quoted the words of his mother, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get.” Don’t let the thought of chocolate distract you because truer words were never spoken. Mankind plays a constant game of jeopardy with every decision we make. If we’re lucky, we bite into the sweetness of something such as a promotion, a victory, or an A plus on a test. Unfortunately, tart tasting situations come along once in a while and all we can do is swallow it and move on; shit happens. When life gets you down, consider the fact that a box of chocolates can only have so many rejects, and you just have one less to worry about.

One of the most important jobs you can perform in your lifetime is to be a friend to someone. Being sisters, we sometimes don’t agree on things, but that is what friends are for. Friends are God’s way of apologizing for families. You can bounce ideas off a friend without having them criticize you, rant and rave at them all you want, or simply receive that much needed hug. A true friend is hard to come by and usually you find that special something in the most unlikely people. Abraham Lincolm once stated, “Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?” You can never have too many friends.

Having said that, never change yourself to be liked by somebody. If they can’t accept you for who you are, then they aren’t a true friend, and they don’t deserve somebody like you. Having a cardboard cutout as a friend isn’t something I would wish upon anyone; Confucius agrees with me when he proclaims, “I don’t want a friend who smiles when I smile, who weeps when I weep, for my reflection in the pool can do better than that.”

I try my hardest every day to not only be a big sister to you, but also your friend. Friendship with someone is the most important gift you give them. Just be there for them. Listen when they need to talk. Friends were made to tell secrets to and share memories with; a friend is a gift you give yourself. Always surround yourself with the love, support, and joy friends provide because they are the ones who know the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you’ve forgotten the words.

Don’t ever be afraid to use your imagination. Your creative genius can make the most painfully boring things, almost interesting. Never hold back; if you feel like dancing, then for Christ’s sake, dance! Look at life through a positive outlook and see all the wonderful things at your disposal. Stop and smell the roses. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade and put one of those little party umbrellas in it. Don’t take things for granted, make the most of what you have and give a little extra to others. It’s true that we don’t always get what we want, but use your imagination to create something out of the things you have.

Even if you’ve let what I’ve told you go in one ear and out the other, know this: I will always be here for you with a warm embrace, as a friend, and a big sister. I might pick on you quite often but I wouldn’t hesitate to come to your defense. It’s the least I can do after all these years you’ve put up with me. And that’s all I have to say ‘bout that; keep smiling and I’ll talk at you later, lil’ sis.

Love ya,

Your big sis

Don’t talk about the incident down the street.

And don’t go out at night.

When a pet doesn’t return, it means

they met with a pair of headlights.

Drivers won’t give you their condolences,

they won’t pause to see if it’s alright.

But the family in the green house

still tapes posters to traffic signs.

They built a brown fence

surrounding their oasis,

and from this spot on my porch,

I barely saw over the barricade.

Their father didn’t wear a belt

their Solo cups were filled with lemonade.

I saw the kids dig a hole in the dirt,

overheard their dreams of seeing

China, but they filled it with water

and called it their swimming pool.

Every time a stray cat appeared,

so did a bowl of food.

The pile of wood along the house

is a hide-away for the cats.

It’s a hide-away for the kids.

The five rooms were crowded with relatives.

Kids sat on the steps of the porch for dinner

balancing paper plates in their laps.

There weren’t enough seats surrounding the table.

Late at night, I could still hear their laughs.

There was a great view of the train tracks,

the kids would count the carts to see

who’ll be the first to spot the caboose.

A dozen times they’ve come knocking

because they accidentally threw

their lab’s ball over my fence and into my yard.

They made steppingstones of concrete, painted them rainbow

Placed them in a garden that never seemed to grow.

When we woke up on June 27th, I knew something was different about her. I didn’t want to say anything about it because I didn’t want her to be alarmed, though I’m sure she felt it already. I went to the kitchen and decided to make her breakfast before we watched the sunrise. Pancakes and bacon, her favorite.

We sat on our front porch swing, she laid in my arms and I held her close. We were silent as the sun rose, once it was up, I looked at her. Her eyes shining in the newly risen sunlight. I couldn’t help but say something now.

“Everytime I close my eyes at night, I’ll see this sunrise with you. When I open my eyes again, I’ll remember your emerald green eyes and soft auburn hair. No matter what I do, I’ll never forget the memory of you. And when you leave, you can take the stars and I’ll keep the moon ” I heard her softly whisper,

“I love you.” as I pulled her closer.

That night, there were no stars. Silently, I watched the moon rise, alone. But I’ll forever keep the stars in my heart.

There is a hole in the back corner of the fence around my house just wide enough to fit through if you turn sideways. It connects to the backyard of a pale yellow house with two pale, white-blonde children who sit on their back deck, feet bare, orange popsicle juice dripping down their chins. We peek through this splintered gate between our houses, knowing that in this summer air, seeing each other is almost always an invitation to run and play. Sneaky glances and shrill yells tell our parents where we are going as we slip sideways through the wooden slats. Sometimes the boys next door join us, increasing our gang to eight. They tumble their way into our lives with loud voices and wrestling moves. I’ve never had brothers, but with them it feels close enough to count. All of us sit in a row, variations of sun kissed blonde hair and sunburned cheeks, a rainbow of popsicle juice sticking up our fingers and staining our tongues. Sometimes we chase the ice cream truck instead, worn dollars from our allowances clutched in our hands. Most of the time we just listen to its tune, a soundtrack to our summer, an acknowledgement to our childhood. As we grow older, our group splinters in a similar way to the fence we still slip through. Not broken, just worn. Our range of ages more apparent, some too old, some too young. We are a straining rubber band, strung together by our childhood but stretched by our experiences, by the people we have all become. We remain taut, strong enough not to break, but never with the closeness we once had. I can’t remember the last time I let popsicle juice drip down my fingers, the last time we sat next to each other on the deck, our laughter being carried by the wind. It’s weird to think about that space and time that occupied our childhood, when we were a collective “kids”, not worried about our ages or our grades, about the friends we had or the games we chose to play. Kenzie left first, weaving in and out of our story as she entered each new chapter before us. David left second, his interests and ambitions not quite overlapping, his joy not found as often in the storybook of our neighborhood. Nell left third, always a call away but still a step ahead. Sydney and I left at the same time, always in match on our paths even when they began to diverge. We left behind the others. Mark. Ally. Taylor. I don’t know when they’ll leave the refuge that was our row of houses. Taylor will go last, always jumping to catch up. But we will all go. We went from kindergarten to college, from diving in the pool to driving in the car. The yellow swings that once carried us back and forth have disappeared from the back yard. Our chalk drawings have long since been washed away by rain. My memories remain, of climbing trees and foam swords, of halloween and hills explored. A part of me will always be sitting on the back of that deck, legs hanging off the edge, with seven other children next to me. The eight of us might never sit on the deck the way we used to, but we intertwine back together in groups of two, three, four, five, eight. We go back for fireworks in the backyard and burgers on the grill. We go back for casual conversation and meet-ups at the coffee shop on the corner. We go back for memories of smiles, and laughter, and popsicle juice dripping down our fingers.

If you were to drown, I would teach you to fish,

because teach a man to swim, he’ll go hungry tomorrow,

teach a man to fish, and he’ll always have something in his belly,

to weigh him down.

If you would catch fire, I would teach you to cook.

because if you burned your bridges,

you’d better know how to make lemonade.

If you cried for help, I’d teach you to sing.

because no one likes complainers in this world,

but music makes the world go around.

If you were down in the dumps, I’d teach you math,

because knowing what you miss is not as important,

as knowing how much of it is gone.