How lucky am I?

Dear Sister,

You didn’t ask for what I am about to tell you. I just wanted to tell you. Perhaps one day you will really understand. Perhaps not. Regardless, this is why I love you. 

I love you because you free me. 

You free me from so much. You free me from more than I will ever be able to express. When you are around, my brain is at peace. The noise that is so often painful and paralysing disappears when I am close to you. I have questioned why my brain works this way, but can’t seem to find an answer. It just happens. This peace you bring is priceless. It allows space, space in my expensive mental real estate, for exciting thoughts to flourish. I feel optimistic, creative and open minded. I think about topics and goals that I have never touched on my own. You give me an energy like no one else. I am my best self when I am with you. How lucky am I?

Your stories teach me so much. They are golden. I know you think you are just telling me of something dumb you did as a kid. I know you don’t know that each story sticks with me. I think that they stick with me because they are the most true expression of your complexities. I love you, but you are complex. That is, most of them show vulnerability and confidence in harmony. You might be telling me about a past mistake, but the way in which you tell that story presents an ownership that is captivating. You telling me about your past lets me know that it is ok to be me. You telling me things in such an “I don’t care if it was dumb, I’m a boss bitch now” manner reminds me that I will be ok. Like a shiny green light, you let me know it’s ok to move. How lucky am I?

I am so proud to be your sister. You are the image of everything that is good. You are perfectly imperfect and unapologetically you. You are everything I am not yet ready to be. But, I do hope to become. How lucky am I to be trained in the school of life by you? How goddamn lucky am I?



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