Justine
My sister
has the kind of laugh that is true and real. It only comes when something really hits her
hard. Being with her is like wearing your favorite old sweatshirt. So soft and comfortable. A good fit.
She loves me. She tells me this
with serious brown eyes. And when I
ask for help, she always says yes.
One day
in the summer she came home with thick, beautiful ropes as hair. She would sit on the porch during those summer days with a novel. The rough cords of hair hid
her face and the pages overwhelmed her.
She is
strong in a fierce and quiet way. You
look at her sometimes when a deep thought is crossing her mind, and you know
that one day she will be great