The Relationship I Never Write About

Wildflowers Unscripted Writing Challenge Day #2: A past or current relationship

You say I never write about you. I’m not sure how much you even frequent my blog, so chances are you won’t see this until or unless I mention it to you.

Awhile ago we had a brunch date. I walked in mildly irritated, sweating underneath my enormous purple coat because I always get sweaty when I’m stressed out trying to find parking. I plopped down and when you mentioned I probably didn’t pay the meter correctly, I got even more annoyed.

But, then it went away. It all dissipated as we found ourselves in a sea of laughter and drinks. I sipped my mimosa as we traded stories from our week. We pontificated about everything and nothing. We talked about the future, we joked about all the hipsters in Hampden where we were having brunch and we eyed other people’s food wondering if we should have ordered that instead.

I do not know what my life is without you. I never want to know what my life is without you. You know my insides, you know how my heart beats, you know me. You get me. In a way that no one else does and no one ever will.

You are often times the last person I talk to at night. Sometimes you are the only person I talk to on Sundays. (Well…my mom, too. Obviously.) If we go a day without speaking, something feels off and I remind myself the next day not to let that happen.

And, even though our relationship is not without its kinks or disagreements and sometimes full-blown, knock-down-drag-out fights, I love you. I love you in a way that I hardly ever blatantly express. I love you in a way that this blog post will never encapsulate. My love for you is a reflex, a second layer of skin, a natural reaction.

I love you because you are everything I am not. You are funny and instantly likeable and loving. You are nurturing and protective. You are charismatic. You strike up conversations with complete strangers with aplomb. You wear bright colors and bring life into any room you enter. Where my edges are rough, yours are smooth.

We always find it strange how people can have such frayed relationships with their siblings. We say that. “I know so-and-so and they hardly ever talk to their sister. Isn’t that weird?” But, maybe we fail to realize just how fortunate we are to have the relationship that we do. Maybe we forget the stars and the moon and the sun gave us something special when they gave us each other.

sisterMy sister is my other half. She has walked through fire, stood in rain and still managed to come out with a smile on her face. I don’t know if I can say the same for myself. My sister is my sanity. She has heard every idea about Twenties Unscripted before it was born. She regularly listens to me wax poetic about my dreams and my fears alike. She knows the DNA of my heartbreaks, hook-ups and holy shit moments. My sister is my best friend, my pillar, my rock.

See? I finally wrote about you. Now we can put that debate to rest.




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