i miss my sister. i miss her willowy body, the way she smells like toast, the crisp feel of her curls in my hand. i miss her short eyelashes, her white white teeth, how her fingers are so long and unexpectedly strong, how she always wins who-can-squeeze-the-other-person's-hand-the-hardest contests but lets me get the last pity squeeze in.
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i miss how she listens to train and the goo goo dolls and the way her brow furrows when she sings along to them in the car, the way she always wears at least one fuzzy or furry thing on her outfit even when it's hot, the way she's oblivious to trends and politics and mean people.
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i crave her long thin arms, her brown eyes that never break contact, her face unlike mine in every way. when she hugs me my chin just hooks around her shoulder, and she lifts me effortlessly, the only person in the world who carries me some distance at least once a day. she isn't scared of the same things i am.
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i want her to be here with me so we can do that thing where we grasp each other's forearms unconsciously when we're talking over chai. i want to make her laugh so hard that her face gets all wrinkly and kind of fat and she looks exactly like she did when she was six. i miss the freckles around her nose and on her shoulders, so faint you can't see them unless you lean in very, very closely, which i do.
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i worry sometimes that there will be a day when i don't know her like this anymore, when i don't remember the thumbprint oval of her clavicle or the weight of her earlobe between my thumb and forefinger or the hollow thwack of her back against my palm. i pray against those days, that i would never wake up and not feel her absence like a cut-off song, a dream interrupted.