Speechless full moon.

My sister is a mysterious specimen who upon closer inspection appears vastly different from what you’d expect based on first impressions. Walking home after dinner in companionable silence, she startles me by asking, “Which do you prefer, the sky or the sea?” I reply with the latter but she shakes her head and says, “I like the sky better… It’s more distant. I can’t reach it.”

This philosophy in fact defines her. We walk in the cool night air past all the houses with their yellow windows, down the tree-lined avenue, and I think how wonderful it would be to just walk on and never stop because then the entire road and everything on it would belong to us. There are many kinds of ownership; a beggar owns the street he sits on more than the man with a title deed. And, in such a way, I am my sister’s keeper.

On the swings in a park, we want to be young again, though we’re not so old yet. But tonight I feel ancient, and maybe it’s only when the similar tap of our feet sound on the pavement that this feeling fades. There is a depth of connection between us, in the same way marshmallows toast over a fire. We have to have each other, it’s the equation that balances itself out. Anger makes me talkative and renders her silent. My emotion is in music, hers in art. I can’t get enough of romantic comedies but she detests them (and me too when I insist on watching). It’s endless; the division igniting the method of communication that is to meet somewhere in the middle of everything.

She’ll always be my little sister, the “Kid”, even if we’re just one year apart. She doesn’t know it, but I’d kill for her and be killed in return. I’d do anything for her.

And all the punks who think they can pick on her? Well, they’ve got another think coming because no one gets to call the shots on my sister but me.

They were sitting, they were sitting in the strawberry swing
And every moment was so precious…

I can’t wait ’til the morning, wouldn’t wanna change a thing
People moving all the time inside a perfectly straight line
Don’t you wanna curve away?
It’s such it’s such a perfect day…

Ah, now the sky could be blue, I don’t mind
Without you it’s a waste of time…

The sky could be blue, could be gray
Without you I just slide away… – “Strawberry Swing” by Coldplay

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