There are days when I awake and my body is tied down to my sheets by my heart. These mornings, I wonder if there is any space at all between my spine and my beating chest. And these are the mornings when I know you are hurting. I imagine if I flipped over my mattress, you would be there too, my mirror image, your heart knotted to mine. Two pretzel knots because it takes me too long to tie a bow.
And I imagine when I stand, you also stand. We are parallel.
You’ve told me you often detect my soul’s tugging, too. We are always right. It has been this way since we climbed under and on top of our beds in our shared room as children. When we bounced up and down trying to peek out of the unusually high window. We have known each other with the certainty of intangible same-selfness since we learned what boobs were. Since we started to hate our bodies together. Since we squeezed each other tight trying to suffocate love into each other through breakups and heartaches and apathy. We have been this way since before we were born I believe.
I often like to picture a timelapse of ourselves, side by side, against a plain wall. Us as children. Your dark, thick hair and curious eyes with the little lines underneath that you’ve had since birth. I have untamed curls, holding your hand. And our bodies morph through the years. Through your tomboy phase. Then through mine right after. Your doodled Converse, then my yellow ones. Your fried bangs and my fried curls. Your glasses becoming less round and more square, bigger, then smaller, then disappearing as you learned to wear contacts, then back again as you realized contacts are a pain. My thighs growing with the strength of sports. Your waist slimming with the pressure of ballet. My arms shrinking with the pain of insecurity. Your arms growing with the power of climbing. Then my body expanding again with nourishment. Your eyes all the while large, and observant, sometimes green, sometimes blue.
Whenever I pinch myself. When I put on clothes and rip them off as fast as I can as if my quickness will erase the image of myself in such a horrendous outfit. When I stare at my imperfections. When I name my flaws. As I call myself words I would never call another. I remember My Parallel. My sister.
I remember the letters you have written me. The ones that beg me to love me.
I remember the poems you have shared as you remind me that I am not alone.
I ask myself what you would say to me, and I to you.
I know you see my beauty. And I see yours.
Sister, you are more than sexy and more than smart. You are more than words. You are worth everything and all.
You are resplendent forests, demanding the senses of the Earth’s creatures.
You are the constituent winds of dust in space.
You are the sheet of time between universes, pulling tighter with greater speeds.
You are the fractals of life’s diversity.
You are a mighty creation.
You are my matter and I am yours. We are Sisters. I have learned more from you than any. I know I have much more to do to grow into half of what you have become. You are beauty. You are selfless. You are more than you will ever comprehend.
This is the time for you to learn of your greatness. To look at your reflection and ask her what she can do for you today. Today is the day you harness the love that propels your dog upwards, and in tumbles, as you return home. This is the moment you feel your feet, wiggle your toes, close your eyes, breathe the surroundings through your lungs, the molecules entering your blood. You are part of this Earth just as much as the Earth is a piece of you. In this day, you are stronger than you have ever been before. And tomorrow, you will only grow.
This is the time for you to notice your inner-workings. The heat, the heaviness, the lightness, or the silence. Accept all which your body provides and nurture this. You are whole within. You are complete. Repeat this.
You are whole. You are complete.
Your heart is beating and your lungs expanding and your thoughts are refusing to stop. You are alive. You are here, now.
You are whole. You are complete.
And I love you, My Parallel.