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strawberry sunshine

do you remember back when we were kids?

when you couldn’t find your face for the freckles

and i fell for every impish trick you played?

i loved those days — when summers meant

endless hours spent barefoot in the backyard

making mud pies and playing pretend,

when we thought the worst things that could

happen were stitches and concussions

or getting hopelessly lost — but even then

we had each other, so it was an adventure.

now we’ve turned into these things called

“adults” or “women,” like tadpoles turn into frogs.

it’s not quite the same anymore, since we’re

busy and running in seemingly all directions at once.

but discovering the differences together

will be just one more adventure out of the many

we’ve had and i’m sure will have in the future.

i can’t see your freckles anymore, but your

sea-glass eyes still sparkle with mischief

as you grin almost until you split.  we

still argue over jane austen sometimes, but

i think (just maybe) i’m warming up to her.

we’re anne and dianna and lizzie and catherine

in a mixed-up roily-poily “heroine-ic” sort of way.

neither of us has bangs and your hair is darker.

but after twenty years, my dear, you still have

strawberries on your birthday cake and your

sunny, silly, spunky disposition remains intact.

i’m eight months older but i never remember life

with out you.  i love you, sister-cousin-friend.

happy birthday. 

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