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.
