Dirty Face

Hi Readers - I love everyone of you. I can't help but have authentic undying love for those who take moments of their life to read what I've written. I have to say a hearty Thank you. On a sad note I cried for about hour today after looking at this one photo:

This one picture just tells a story so much more achingly and earnest than most words can. I should at least try to convey what profound emotions the picture is pulling up from in me. This moment you are seeing in this picture is personal and powerful because I remember how it felt. I remember how it felt to follow Amy around the yard, sit on the large rock warmed by sun, to dance under the dogwood tree and grab at the white petals. All the while, my little face (or as one old man called me in the neighborhood) my little "dirty face" was always upturned towards hers, just to see what she, the charmed and somehow perpetually clean sister, was thinking. I wanted to read her mind and delve into its mystical secrets. I wanted so badly to be her, she of the special nick name "skinny minnie", not as derogatory as my own. To be thin and clean and pretty and....older. So when I see this picture I remember how not much had changed in the years that went.

I, of course, became the fucked up sister who did atrocious things and caused myself and others so much pain. I became the dirty face...maybe not literally...but I would spit in mirrors with contempt at the look of me. Meanwhile, Amy of the golden variety remained there for me always. Quietly picking up my pieces, urging me on towards better things. I resented her interference and I wasn't fair to her and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Amy, for all times you called and I just couldn't answer the phone because I was in a place of self-loathing and couldn't allow you to hear that with all you were going through. And there it is. My selfishness laid bare.

On her death bed, she lay quiet though I could hear a slight wheeze in her chest. I thought she was asleep, so I started crying softly, not enough to wake her, but convulsive tears that happen when you come to understand what a selfish asshole you've been your entire life especially to this person who is about to die. And there is not a whole lot you can do to make up for it now, is there? Those fucking tears. I feel her hand begin to play with my hair the way she used to do when we were little, to comfort me. I looked back and her yellow eyes were open and looking at me. I said "Amy you have been such a good sister to me" Then she sort of smiled and said "you too". But that wasn't the truth. So I said "You've always better to me then I've been to you and I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, Amy for what I've done...."She just kept rubbing my hair. I would like to think that is some sort of forgiveness. But I don't know. She was so lovely, and kind. Why did God pick her? I was the one...it should have been me. The wrong sister has died. I keep waiting for someone to realize there's been an error and then they'll be coming for me. That's a scary fucking thought. But I am not feeling right tonight. I'm sorry if I am bumming anyone out.