On My Sister’s Birthday

There are things you can never repay. I am a writer today in part because I told my sister stories upon stories. at home, on family trips, as a way to escape terror, boredom or fear. I paint because of her example. I have the strength to meander along my path because I have my sister’s example.

During this period of my life, my sister stood by me; she visited me, she sorted out my affairs, she anchored me to life, she made me want to come back into the world of the living. I have a cherished picture somewhere of me and her in the hospital. She is one of two people who visited me, and the only person I trusted with my keys, my life and everything.

I worry about my sister, every day. She has developed into an enormous person, with a sense for the permeability of reality, the joy and terrifying sadness of words, and the complexities of human beings. She may not have developed the calluses that help many of us to move on, forward, without major injuries. She worries me.

She’s one of the kindest, most generous people I have ever met.

I am a writer today because she is my sister. I am alive today because of her. There are things you can never repay.

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