When you were young you ate the corners of your bread first, unlike your sister who could never resist the pudding and finished it first thing and then took another helping at the end of her meal. You could sit down and play your drums for two hours at a stretch. She would sit and sing for half an hour, call it an extremely productive session, and move on to the next thing. You should have been the older one, even if it meant getting you a math tutor. You know, I doubt the quality of counsel your sister must be giving you. She was one freak of a kid and has grown into one freak of a woman. What does she tell you? Be an open vessel when you are happy and an airtight can when you are miserable? Never do that, honey. Why should you do that? You have us. The both of you have us. Make us a part of your life, and you’ll see it only gets easier.
This girl frightens me. Sometimes, when she looks frozen; her person cut loose and locked in some inaccessible corner, I want to tell her it’s okay to be sad, it’s okay to be candid about one’s feelings. I constantly look for a crack in her voice, a subject -averting -look in her eyes, but nothing comes out of her.
Every time this happens, I think it will dent her appetite for life, normalize it, and bring it closer to that of us lesser mortals, but no, that never happens. And secretly, I’m glad about it.
When you're around, she is saner. Without you, the house gets a little lonely. You’ve been gone only for four days and I’m already missing you so much. Soon, you are going to go away for much longer. And she will go away too, hopefully. That will be hard. Things have been so woven around the two of you that it will take them a while to unwind and stand by themselves. But we’ll think about that later. Right now, I’m happy that you’ll be back in a month.
Have fun, honey, and come back with storiesMa