Sisters 2 by: Nancy Hines, Graphite on Paper – 2017
In 1987, it was cute for me to squeal
At the funny commercial on TV.
In 1987, it was adorable when I would grab
My mother around the waist and squeeze.
In 1987, my little sister
Worshipped the very ground I walked on.
When I would squeal
She would yelp.
Now she always looks
Like she’s trying to figure me out.
It feels like she’s the big sister now.
She chastises me.
She directs me.
She lectures me.
She guides me.
I am always thankful
And I wonder
Why our roles switched.
Somehow I got stuck.
I roar when something funny happens.
I wear flowers in my hair
And jelly shoes on my feet.
I walk into the room
Expecting them to tell me how pretty I am.
They act like it’s not appropriate
To expect such things.
I feel them looking at me.
This is funny
So why aren’t they laughing?
Why do they look at me
Like I’ve done something wrong?
Why are they speaking to me
Like I am twelve years old?
My daughter is twelve,
I am thirty-five.
Something is wrong
But I am too confused to see it.
I close my eyes and tune in
To the steady voices that bring me peace.
The ocean waves.
The sound of a mother’s heartbeat
From within the belly.
The jangling of an ice cream truck.
All followed by the dependable, friendly voices.
You’re just not laughing hard enough.
Laugh louder.
You should rearrange those books.
Prove your worth.
Show them how much they want you here.
They’re not acknowledging you!
Ask them! Ask them if they love you!
You look sad now.
Let’s be sad together.
Go sit over against that wall.
Draw your knees up to your chest.
That’s OK if that tear falls.
Maybe they will comfort you.
That didn’t work, let’s go back to happy.
You just weren’t excited enough before.
They want to celebrate.
They just aren’t motivated yet.
Turn on some music! That’s it, let’s dance!
I am trying.
If I just hold on,
My happiness will catch.
They will all join in
And it will be like 1987
When daddy would put a record on
And we would all dance.