Tapping, WA

I knew there was something up with her because she stormed past my door as if she was hiding something.
I knew exactly what was wrong, because we had been in this same situation a thousand times before. I put down my school bag and walked into her room. She was sat in her usual position, so i sat in mine; just next to her mirror. I turned away so i wasn't looking at her, that was the most important part of our routine. If i looked at her she could feel me watching her, so i just gave her a few minutes to herself. From the mirror i could see her easily so i kept glancing over. She didn't notice me because she was far too buried in her own thoughts. Her head was stooped, and i could see her expressions change as she read the multicoloured words on the paper. She smiled cheekily as she progressed through the page, then her face straightened as she turned over to the next side. Then the first tear fell. It was overdue. She had managed to read a side and a half before she actually cried. This was my cue; shuffle ab it further forward. She put the paper down by her side and sighed, she had evidently finished. After a few seconds, she looked up at me with a big smile on her face and tears all down her cheeks. She pushed herself to her knees and crawled towards me. Flinging her arms around my neck i squeezed her hard in a hug that was more comforting than anything i couldve said. After a minute or two, she rocked back to her heels and passed me the letter. I scanned it quickly and nodded. She smiled and i wiped her cheek. Neither of us needed to say anything, there is an unwritten language that you are born with when you are a sister. Its a silent tongue that doesn't need to be shared; like a glance across the dinner table during cringe-worthy conversations or a pinch of the arm after an inappropriate comment. Its a language you cant teach, because there is nothing to be taught. Its just sisterhood.






















My Grandad offered me a teapot before.
One out of his loft.
It may be years old, but its still usable.
He assured me he knew exactly where it was.
'Want me to go up and get it?'
No thank you grandad.
You're 60 something and due for a knee replacement.
Its fine, but thank you.
I'll go without.