Celina-and-I
Missing you.

Thought about you quite a bit today, in bits and bobs. Second thing in the morning, close to last thing tonight. Flashes of memories technicolour and sepia-toned… like your dancer’s gait, your sulk, and your laugh. Your wild, wild hair, thick and forever your bane.

(I hope God’s given you sleek, manageable hair now.)

 

Sitting with you deep into the night in your backyard, just listening while you chain-smoked and rationalised and tried to explain, and tried not to care.

Shopping with you, meeting you after school. The fact that you always had a library book in your bag, and a glare on the ready. The fact that you were always smarter and brighter and funnier and wittier, and grouchier and moodier, and infinitely more loyal.

The fact that we always fought and forgave and fought and forgave because we were blood, if not quite sisters.

Your allergy to Maggie Noodles and how you hated piano lessons.

Introducing me to Ingham’s marinated turkey – which, by the way, they no longer bring into Canberra. I know, right?

Telling you about Canberra, telling you about Tony, growing apart for a little while.

I wonder what you think of my life now, and I wonder if you miss yours in this world. Even just a tiny bit.

I wonder what you think of Arddun. Would she be the only child you would’ve grudgingly grown to love, if only because she is mine?

I miss your spark, your drama, your loyalty, your listening ear. Your brilliance, your sunshine, your aspiration, your strength.

You.

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