Sisterhood

Cleaning around the house today in preparation for houseguests arriving tomorrow, I found an amulet, made out of clay and painted green, strung on black yarn. It's a strange-looking thing. For luck, he had said when he gave it to me. It surprised and saddened me that I have forgotten him for this long.

The eldest child, I always wanted an older brother or sister. Someone to whom I could abdicate responsibility. Someone who would hold my hand during tough times, take my side, get my back, defend and advise me.

We met through a mutual friend, an artist, because he was an artist too. One of the first things he did for me was paint me a watercolor. A girl, crying in a dark room. I don't know where it's gone.

He was the person I called when my drugged-out boyfriend (at the time) didn't recognize me, was hospitalized, was abusive. The person I called when I was too embarrassed or ashamed to call anyone else. The person who got angry on my behalf, who cared about little things no one else wanted to hear about, who drove four hours to see me for five minutes, to give me a little green amulet, for luck.

Like many little sisters, I suppose, I took all of this for granted. And I went away to school, and got busy, and lost touch. Lost the watercolor, and even many of the memories. But I still have the amulet.