68"

Aug. 21, 2010 at 3:16pm with 20 notes

My sister.

This year she was brought on full-time at a high school north of Denver, an hour’s drive through sun-soaked fields. Yesterday, I went to see her. Had some lunch off Lincoln Boulevard, in the old town stretched between crisp new eco-boutiques and well-worn watering holes. I watched her lovingly put some little rug rats humbly in their places. I also watched the eyes of every adolescent boy widen as she sauntered by, quickly fumbling for something to ask her.

We fought with hell-born vigor as kids. There were moments of interaction in the landing between our rooms that consisted exclusively of hitting and punching, then retreat, then spoils for the victor—punishment, of course.

The sibling dynamic, at least in my small family, has been polished with age. We are both adults now. We both make mistakes. We struggle for honesty. We try to shed the callous of childhood and find our new dynamic.

So, now, nothing makes me happier than to see her in her own individual pursuit. She’s building her own empire, amidst combines and pickup trucks and golden plains. Had someone asked me at thirteen if I would ever willingly driven an hour to have a mediocre meal with the person who just sunk her chiseled teeth into my forearm, I would have scoffed and likely gone back to killing Russians in a video game.

But the dynamic is changing for everyone.