Last Witness to My Childhood
Sister, I wanted a seesaw: both sides taking turns, pushing the other up. But your legs were never strong enough. For years, I felt cheated, like you’d swiped my favorite teddy, hidden it inside your crooked spine. Daddy said, “No, you’re the healthy one, the lucky one. You can ride the swing by yourself. Touch the sky with your toes. She can’t, unless you help her.” Now Daddy’s gone, Momma, too, and we’re both too old to ride seesaws. Sister, I learned to admire you the day I saw you triumph in the shower with only bars for assistance. You taught me to value my solid bounce on...
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