My Sister’s House

I didn’t want to see the rooms half empty, each dish packed, each rug rolled up. Her house – so unlike mine, which is dim, china shepherdesses gleaming in the shadows.

My sister liked new things, or if not new, made so with paint and varnish. Light, she liked, broad windows, bright prints. If I go now, will I see her hand on the drape, drawing it back? Will she stir the eggs in the pan, careful to scrape them all up?

She made them with water. Older sister, her way was best, no matter that I liked them with milk.

Photo Credit: Albert Lew 

3 Responses to “My Sister’s House”

1. Lisa Ahn says:

   February 4, 2020 at 6:03 pm

   I love the imagery and the emotional complexity. Wow!

   Reply
2. JJStick says:

   October 31, 2019 at 7:27 pm

   Wow.

   Reply
3. Janice P says:

   October 30, 2019 at 5:05 pm

   I am curious about the emotional intent – detached acknowledgement of differences or a detached numb sadness??

   Reply