Dear Sister

Dear sister,
I remember.
I remember who we are together, what the love that binds us looks like when it flows into this world.
Imagination, love for what each of us contributes, playfulness, ,inspiration.
When we played, when we created together, it was like riding a magnificent wave and we were dancing on top.
We did not meet with expectation or comparison or social etiquettes. There were no wrong or rights with us. There was only time stretching long before us asking to be filled.
We were queens of our realm, sister, and no one else ever entered. We tried, but no one ever did...

I know you know the story of our parting from your place standing young as I flung far childhood's crown and walked away forever.

They were cruel you know, about our games. Imagination and heart are liabilities in the real world.
Most people called that my growing up.
But what I know was that that was my growing closed, drawing heavy curtain down on the voices of heart that spoke lively in the mind. It became lonely so I replaced them with everyone else's voices and you'd think that would make it feel full but it was even lonelier.
It would lead me into a moment in college where I would put pen to blank paper, try to lay down heart as black ink and the great expanse of empty white would ask me to feel but I couldn't and I would have cried if I could have but the river had long run dry.

But Sister, my river flows now, and the fields are beginning to green again. It moves through the chest and down the face at the brazen beauty that paints itself across this world.
The voices are back too, my voices. They help me create worlds again. They help me play again.
And there is a happy ending to this story, because in the losing I Know what was lost and when Found there appeared a depth unknown before.

It has meant alot of time alone with those voices learning to Hear all over again.

But I remember sister. And when we create together, when we painted birds against sunset and I watched the pink feather through your gold as everyone else doggedly tried to wash brush to ensure it didn't happen to theirs, I watched you softly play with it and it inspired me...
I felt the wave call again.

I know my river will make waves again because I am returning to our realm, cleaning cobwebs, placing tarnished crown upon head once more

and I hold this wish dear and true sister
That when the dust of adult life settles we will return there together again, not as the children we were but as who they dreamed they would be.