Poetry

Little Sister

It may sound strange but this is the first time I've felt allowed to be a little sister for as long as I remember. Whenever anyone asks, I tell them I have a brother, a junior in high school,But I usually refer to him as my brother. Not my big brother,Ever since I started school I've questioned him on why he says it's hard.I witnessed his genius on countless occasions, so why was this different?When we sat at the dinner table I would ask him why it took so long for him to do his homework,He would reply that "Fourth graders have a lot more homework than second graders." But when I was in fourth grade I found it easy.In fifth grade, we all got reading Lexiles. Mine in fifth was higher than his in seventh.As we grew, I realized that he was as smart as I had always known.But, I found out that what I had was school smarts, where my brother had street smarts.So did he.Now here we are finally both in high school as my parents yell again, Screaming at him about how he needs to FINISH HIGH SCHOOL!I come into the room once they are done.We look out the window at the dark skies and watch the bubbles of white drifting in the wind just as his car drifted into a mailbox. I ask my brother to stand up, convincing him to trust me,We stand face to face several feet apart,And I allow myself to be small,I look up into his eyes a foot taller than my own.And I bury myself in his chest throwing my arms around his back and double them up easily around his skinny flesh.And I am small."Don't die!" I whimper through the tears."It's okay" he remembers the kind little boy he used to be.The one who brought his injured sister her favorite teddy bear.The one who played with me during long adult phone calls. "I'm not going anywhere."