The other day, The Peanut and I were having a serious conversation about her dimples. “What are they for?” she wondered. “Why doesn’t anyone else in our family have them?”
“Your Aunt Jessie had dimples,” I told her.
Had. The word flew out of my mouth like a startled bird. The Peanut didn’t miss a beat, and was already chattering about another exciting topic: how JJ has a penis and she doesn’t.
But more than anything, I wanted to take that word back.
I’m sure my sister still has her sweet dimples. I’m sure her eyes are still the deep blue of pansies. It’s been years since I’ve seen her, but some things don’t change.
I like to think that if she called me tomorrow, it would be as if no time had passed. We’d still have that sisterly telepathy, that special bond I’ve never had with anyone but her. We’d marvel that we still share the same hairstyle and the same wardrobe, fashion choices made in parallel, independent of time or geography. She’d utter a well-worn phrase, and we’d both laugh until we choked.
I’m afraid I’m letting her go. Because that is what you eventually do, whether you want to or not, when someone you love is gone.
Who You Callin' Crazy?
- Stephanie
- Bay Area, CA, United States
- Although I'm a writer by trade, I spend most of my time chasing after my two children and trying to figure out who I want to be when I grow up.
6 comments:
I hope you do hear from her and this gap between teh two of you is overcome. I think when someone slips from your day to day life it is easy to think of them in the past tense. You no longer see them as a person in current terms, you see them as the person you used to know.
Ugh. I hope she finds her way back to you. My dad is the only one in my family with dimples. Even his twin sister doesn't have them.
Yikes, what is it with us and our sisters? Mine was my best friend until one day, that became two and three and then months and now years. There wasn't a big falling out, just a subtle and deliberate separation. Unlike you two, we actually see each other. In the same room filled with miles of nothing. I can relate to the "had", the person that was, because even when we look in their direction, they won't let us see them.
I hope the two of you can sort out whatever differences you have. I don't know what the gap is or what the problems are, but I do think it's never too late to change things if you don't like the way they are.
Some of my very best memories existed between the two of you - usually laughing so hard I thought I might die. Jessica and I are the same age of course - both famous cellists and the like - the sisterly telepathy between you always struck me as cinematic - I miss seeing that, can only imagine your loss - and am certain, that where ever that lady is right now - that loss has to be one she feels. Miss you both.
Thank you all so much for your kind words.
Sarah, I don't know what the gap or problems are, either. If only I did, then maybe I could do something to fix it. As it is, I am just waiting for her to come back to me some day.
Oh Marc...tears streaming down my cheeks. I love you, man.
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