by Brittany Lytle

Created on: May 03, 2009

I see her in small ways every day.

The folded blue shirt in my dresser suddenly fills out with the shape of her soft body, her hand covers the small scrawl of her letters, the pen re-writing them as I re-read, stopping only to slowly crochet the stumpy blue horse she promised me two years ago. We were sisters in every way but blood - closer than sisters. Youth is now a blur of summer - trees, bathing suits, our bodies constantly calling out to be immersed in cool water. It's a place similar to a fey world. It will never grey, never fade, and those who stay will never age.

We started out as Christians. I knew nothing else and she would do most anything to find her father's praise, to save herself from making a decision. We grew in faith and love in an intertwined way - she saw me inside of a bright light that cleansed me of my faults; I was attached to her as though I were a filter for her blood, as though she were my respirator.

As we aged, she took interest in others and though she claimed that she would always need me, that we had formed a bond unbreakable, we found separate paths. Our link stretched, a thin, pulsing line threatening to break. I went on to college and the possibilities of the world opened up like wildflowers at my feet.

I no longer heard from her. I no longer needed God.

After expanding my mind, I became depressed by realizing the limitations of my small-mindedness. I was a spider at the center of my crumbling web, self-reliant and self-destructive. Whatever unfortunate bug flew into the trap instantly became inedible in my eyes. Too pathetic. Too evangelical. Too closed minded. Too hypocritical. Too bitter. Poison. I withdrew from society and suffocated inside myself.

As this went on, her words came to me. A post card, a letter, her voice recorded in my phone, her small script forcing me to concentrate on everything she had to say. And how I missed her. And yet how stubborn I remained. Perhaps I didn't want to drag her down to the depths of my misery... but that is nothing more than an excuse crafted for the past with the knowledge of the future. Realistically, I was being selfish; self-loathing.

She had other friends. Friends that encouraged her faith and religion. I never discouraged it, but I stopped encouraging. Yet, her words came like rain in a drought.

Last fall, a package arrived for me. I immediately recognized the small script, the delicate letters. Smiling, I cut through the tan paper and pulled out a blue and violet creature. Despite

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>