She picked me up. We drank aquamarine fishbowl margaritas and shared a fried avocado and queso. We talked. Some of it was dirty, most of it wasn't. We sped to Marshall's after, because that's where we go. We had an hour.
We looked at shoes, "I need boots.".
We looked at bras and panties, "Seriously?"
We split up. We lost and found each other. I called her in the store because that's what we do.
We didn't have much time.
That's what happens when you're ten years apart.
We tried on our finds. My left big toe poked out of my skull and cross bone socks. The purple shirt was too small. I looked in the mirror at my bloodshot eyes. My lips were so chapped they were the color of the lipstick our mother wears. I looked old, but not so tired. We agreed we need to find an eyebrow place.
We won't. She had the hiccups.
I bought pants I will wear to Ethiopia to pick up her nephew.
You can tell we're sisters. There isn't a doubt. It's all over our faces and the way we walk.
I feel better.
She is my sister.
The Artist’s Journey, #11
18 hours ago