Sister

Sister

A vicious lion,

A timid kitten,

A harsh cold night,

A warm woolen mitten.

A baby’s head, so loving and weak.

A pillow awaiting my aching feet.

She’s the book you can’t put down.

When I’ve got troubles, she’s always ground.

Her heart’s an oyster holding a pearl.

The best kind of friend to have in this world.

I ran across this poem stuck in a notebook of creative writing works composed by David, Elizabeth and Michael during their high school years. They shared some of their work with Ruth and me, while other pieces were just left behind. If I found one, I squirreled it away.

Michael wrote this about his sister. His teacher gave him an “A” on the assignment and wrote him a note. She wanted to know if Michael had shared it with Elizabeth. If he didn’t, she’ll read it sometime soon and twenty-seven years after it was written. I’m certain his feelings haven’t changed.

Sometimes we neglect to tell the people closest to us how we feel. We spend much of our time trying to connect with others. We take the people closest to us for granted. I know I did.

Early in our marriage Ruth would sometimes ask if I loved her. Most of the asks occurred as we were lying in bed at the end of the day. We’d revisit the day’s events and plan for the next. I had a standard reply that I regret to this day. “Of course, I love you. I married you didn’t I.” She wanted to hear the words that I just took for granted.

My favorite line in Michael’s poem is “She’s the book you can’t put down.” That’s because you want more.

I know I do.