a poem my sister told.

this summer I went to Idaho after a certain event to get away. It is probably one of the most memorable times of the summer. A hard time, yes, but a beautiful time no doubt.

while in Idaho I worked everyday at my family's fruit stand, they(the 2 stands) are very large and resemble puyallup's Tacoma boys, but a little more personal and a lot cheaper. Working there, is maybe one of my favorite parts of the summer, i love it. My sister is a full time worker which results in her getting paid more and allowing her to be my "boss" when we are alone running the stand. At certain times it gets slow and she takes advantage of being my boss, but i don't mind because slow times are precious. Those are the times we eat all the fruit and draw on the cashier table and get mad at each other then forget about it seconds later.
Or the time i walk up and down the aisles with the broom sweeping, or the times i snip the dead off the flowers and arrange the flats with no same color toughing, then put them back because the pansies and tulips don't complement each other. But, my favorite part of the slow times are my sister's french poetry book. Under the cashier table we had a fan, water and books.

My sister is beautiful in so many ways but i think the most beautiful part of her would be her elegance in the french language. Her accent is fluent and only three years made it that way. Needless to say, it makes mine sound as thought I'm having a panic attack while pronouncing my "r".

Back to the poetry book,
"crapster (that's my name to her, I'm never Chelsea.) come here."
"what?"
"I'm reading you a poem."
"...okay?"
she read it, and i cried.
she translated it because the french was to complex for me. I only cried because of her voice and how beautiful it sounded (i stopped before she looked up, she doesn't know i cried,)

my sister is never very emotional, her heart has always been deeply tucked away, but she does little things that make it obvious that she loves me. Despite the times when she tells me I'm useless, and I'm only her half sister, but there are those times that i will cherish because i know she is a person that you have to cherish everything she does because it doesn't come often. I know she loves me, because she marked all the good poems and gave me the book. and I know she loves me because she makes me go to the store with her, and i know because on my sixteenth birthday she called me from Spokane, where she lives, to wish me a happy birthday crapster. I just said thank you fish ( that's her name to me, she is never tavona.) i was trying really hard to hide my excitement and shock that she called me. we talked a bit and I ended it like i always do, "bye fish", "i miss you and love you a lot."
That birthday i got the best birthday present i had ever received, "i love you too."

I've gotten one or two before and only one hug that i can remember after the ages of five and two, but all the other signs of affection were followed by the disclaimer, "i only love you because i have to and you're my little sister," but i know she loves me for me because like i said, she makes me go to the store with her, and she gives me poems and calls me on my birthday. and buys me hippie shirts, and makes sure i know everything about music and plays rock band with me and makes fun of my " rock band faces."

I'm glad she read that poem to me, and I'm glad she is my sister. i wrote this because i miss her all the time, I'm really proud of her and i wish she was happy and loved herself as much as i do.