SHOW ME YOUR BONES

My mother is a tiny woman. One would not call me tall, but when I am around her. I feel this way. Her hair is dark and long like mine. She tells me often how proud she is of me and how glad she is that my life holds many things she wishes she had in her youth. Every now and then I look at her and remember how she would never be late to pick me up from netball training or how she would never say no to a friend coming over to play. She has a trail of love and sorrows. I have watched her be the loving human towards my sister and I during her strongest moments and also make mistakes during her weakest. Like all humans. I understand how my father could have loved her so.

My darling young sister is as tall as a tree. When I am around her, I feel short. Even though she says every day that I am the one she looks up to. Her eyes sparkles of a friendly demeanour. One that hides her naivety. When I look at her I remember early mornings and swimming lessons with our father, bickering moments about the front seat of car trips and belly laughs about accidently breaking our strange neighbors window with our tennis ball. She has a rawness of a beautiful young girl pondering about what steps to take next. Tossing and turning about all sorts of decisions. Like all humans. Little does she know how bright her future could be.

I found this photograph of the both of them as I was packing my belongings into boxes. It made me feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. It reminded that even after saying goodbye to my father. There is still so much love here to make my world go round.