Lithograph: Miguel Martinez
But we are strangers, always. Two, so close in age by two years. Age separates like two wet leaves cling, then dry and snap away with the wind. What causes human partings? Does there need to be a cause? Like sleepwalkers holding hands, my sister and I slowly wander off into opposite lives. No need to look back through the haze and try to fathom what happened. Nothing at all. Once she calls to share with me her medical. I listen with empathy but unable to offer the sympathy she needs. Once I send a loaded letter_ loaded with spousal problems. She responds with feelings of disgust and humiliation for a sister that is nothing but a “poor me” cry baby. Neither of us able to give what the other wants. A lost , hurtful relationship is answered with numbness for awhile until the scab finally leaches off and leaves a clean, clear perfect skin beneath. But somewhere in that clear perfection a mysterious longing, half forgotten, just beneath the skin, that what was lost may never be found.