The Language of Sisters

Today I held deep conversations about genetically modified foods, golf
and what techniques garner the best result on a score card,
and how to cook the perfect hard and soft-boiled eggs.
These were important conversations.
I learned. I listened. I contributed.

But the most important was the conversation I didn’t have.

Scooting a chair up, knee-to-knee to my sister, I smiled into her face.
I’m here, I said. She smiled.

My sister no longer speaks words. Her face is mostly still.
She is now a listener, while I’ve become the talker.

Some days, I don’t know what to say.
In spite of earlier conversations about food and golf and eggs,
Today was a silent day with my sister.


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