I found a picture of my sister today.
She’s standing behind me while I sit on the couch, the Christmas tree to our left poking into view.
The eerie smile that only she was able to create on her face.
Her wild hair pulled back and her green eyes luminous in the low light. My own aren’t quite as bright but you can still tell we’re twins.
I stared at the picture so long that I thought I might go insane. Wondering, waiting. For what I didn’t know. For it to start moving? For her to wave?
I’m not sure.
I’m trying not to think about it right now as I lay in bed, awake and thinking about it. I’m trying not to see her mouth, open, as if trying to tell me something. And I both want and don’t want to know what she’s saying.
Because you see, my sister, my twin, was my best friend and I would never fear her.
But this picture is from last Christmas.
And she’s been dead for sixteen years next May.