seven years, give or take

Her hand sticks out oddly stabbing at empty air.  The actions she is making are unmistakably too young and uncoordinated for a child of her age, not to mention of her ability. Oh-yes, I sigh, I am on her blindside and she has forgotten her glasses.  I catch her hand in mid jab to put it in mine navigating the busy parking lot with her as if she is a toddler.  I wonder if this bothers her.  I wonder if she understands.

“Do we have time?” she asks pointing at a yard sale adjacent to the store. 

“Do we have time?” she asks fishing quarters out of her pockets stopping at the gumball machines.

“Do we have time?” she asks choosing a second movie from the big red box.

“Do we have time?” she asks pointing to the playground.

“We have all the time in the world,” I say to each request remembering the last time that was actually as true as it is today.  It was a July day much like this one; summer thunder storms waiting in the wings.  And we were shopping…if I'm right about the year, it is seven years ago tomorrow- the day I didn’t get that phone call from my parents to tell me my sister's body was found on the floor of her bathroom of her little hot second floor apartment…

“I was at the grocery store buying green beans, a tiny seedless water watermelon with dirt still caked on one side, and unbleached flour. All for the petite toe-headed toddler sitting in the shopping cart basket clutching a package of goldfish crackers in one hand, pudding in the other, and singing a very bad rendition of twinkle-twinkle little star.” Taming Venus, mlb  

Seven years later this child isn’t much different from that child.  She is stubborn and smart, capable and dependent, and her singing just as bad.

Seven years later I am a whole different person.  I have yet to reconcile and visit my sister’s grave. But this is the first year I have thought of going. I don't fear her but I still dream of her. I think to call her when I am lonely, which is a lot.  She was my sister...

Seven years is a long time.

At the yard sale I bought Beach a little tent for 3 dollars.

At the gumball machine I gave her 2 extra quarters.

At the movie box I let her pick out both movies.

At the playground I let her play until I thought the milk couldn't wait any longer in the hot car.

Seven years and I have uncovered no truths nor answers about dying but I sure have learned a lot about how to live.