December 19, 2004

SISTER OF MINE / YOU LIVE TOO FAR AWAY NOW

She remembers being in awe of us. I was supposed to be babysitting, but once she was old enough to play in her room, contentedly and harmlessly, reading or entertained by her hamster and it's smoked-plastic apian Hamtrackô tunnel - by all accounts I was fine with letting her be and retiring to my room, fuming with teen-stress behind a locked door. I was 16, she was eight - and I was not about to play with her. I was plotting a path out, likely sitting on my floor, playing my bass, devising ways to be clever. Meanwhile, according to her, she was standing outside my room, making "weird" noises into her Mister Microphone, trying to conjure my curiousity and lure me out to play with her. In retrospect, it is profoundly sad to me, that two such lonely little girls inhabited close space and did not find each other.

Right now, she is sitting at the other end of the couch, taking notes in purple pen, her lefty-ness making the pen go funny. "Fuck Oceanography, dude." She says this and extends a middle finger to her textbook. "I took this class because I thought it would be, like, "creatures of the sea" and not tectonic plates. I am so glad that I am spending two grand on knowledge I will never actually use." It is finals week, and so she is here, plowing through a book with a morning beach scene on it's front and back. Taking breaks and smoking with her right hand, eating bits of dinner with the other, tying and retying up her long blonde ponytail.

Her feet are the same size as mine. We checked, a few hours ago. Our toes are different species entirely, though. We are half sisters, and have a unspoken fondness for anything that affirms our being blood-real family. I have taken to calling her Little Sis, despite that she does not like to be called anything but her full name, Lauren. Little Sis sounds like something you name a horse. It is obvious and corny, something out of a teen-girl book about the bond of sisterhood, where the kids have a fantasy-perfect life with nary a trouble, and so, calling her this is outwardly comic, but I really love that she puts up with it.

Posted by Jessica at December 19, 2004 06:20 PM | TrackBack