We floated out, she and I. Three months apart we are. I'm the oldest. And that smallest of separation has always shown in us. I could get us quite into a heap of trouble. Our laughs, our voices, still the same, she and I. Like the little girls who snuck out of bed, wanting to be a part of the party too, days of together like sisters. Our dads are brothers.
We had one of the littles pull us out into the waters far away from the shore, over and over.....one thing kept repeating itself. Those waves? They brought us right back to shore. Right back home. No matter how far we went out. We eventually made it right back. To where we belonged. To our people. And I smiled. I smiled at the wounds that have healed and are becoming something I never dreamed. I felt the new ones, fresh and still so painful. But the waves. They come back. They bring you back. In time. Thankful.