25/03/2010 § 2 Comments
Growing up, they barely talked, the younger one was a hot-headed ball of fire, the older one silently in a land of dreams, neither floating on an even wave, never present in the same time.
Everything was different about the sisters, not only in personality, but body, too. The older one had brown hair and blue eyes, a soft face full of features that illuminated when she smiled. The younger sister was blonde, hair light like little noodles, sharp, brown eyes with an angular nose. There were days when they asked themselves, how is blood thicker than water?
Growing up, the divide became blurry, their personalities striking similarities in seemingly odd places. When it came to love and fear, the bonds of blood would tighten, making one’s features sharper and the other’s rounder, moulding each into one familiar face.
Older and wiser, tougher, yet tender, they realized that there is no bond like blood, that despite differences, in fact because of them, they loved each other. They respected and embraced the divide instead of scorn it, noticing that they could still hug through holes in wall. They lived two different kinds of lives, able to be where they needed to be, but always peeking over the wall and watching the other, making sure she was living how she wanted to live, hoping for happiness and peace.
If you ever needed, I would give you my left arm. I know you would give me your right.