She Grows Up (and I Write Her a Letter)

My sister was born in the beginning of summer and named after the feminine form of the god of war. She lived up to her fiery namesake and was a fierce little wildcat in her younger years. Later, she poured her passionate dreams into her artwork. I've watched her blow glass fearlessly, sculpt clay into dramatic forms, sketch a story in paint across a canvas and,…


Growing Pains

She walked out in a pair of tiny denim shorts and a T-shirt that was falling off one shoulder. She spoke in a sweet southern accent that I’d never heard before and burst into real tears as she explained to her best friend that she’d never be responsible enough to be a mother. My sister stole the show for her acting final. I was sitting in…


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