Today I miss my sisters.
All of them live in other states.
We used to ride bikes together down our dirt road. I had a blue bike.
We rode down till we reached the bridge. Then if one of us dared the other, someone walked carefully across one of three rusted steel beams that crossed over top of the massive ditch. We didn’t show fear in our steps – everyone pretended they weren’t scared of falling.
Later on we sat on folding chairs and play cards in the den. We’d toss blue, red and white poker chips onto the collapsible poker table. We’d eat cheetos and the orange cheeto mess would smear on the Ace of Spades. Then everyone knew who had the Ace of Spades. But no one said anything.
Once there was a tornado. All four of us walked down the steps into the basement. The lights were out. It was dark and we were in a corner. Nobody was scared. But our hearts beat fast and we didn’t want to breathe. Lightning lit up the basement.
They moved away when I was in school. I didn’t care. Today I miss them.