2001-12-08 || 9:13 p.m.
|| lovely sister love ||
i am listening to jethro tull. i am sitting in my slip wrapped in grammy's afghan because kelly wanted to try on my dress. it's a bit too big for her. just a bit. we are becoming the same size. we measured our pelvises: same number of inches. her feet are half a size smaller than mine. i can't quite fit into her lucky jeans. she used to wear bikinis under her clothes year round. i used to wear scarves year round. her hair isn't so blonde any more. she wants to dye her hair my color.
she was wearing one of my slips. we were taking polaroids that no one will ever see, except perhaps for our children in twenty years. we will be 45 and 43 respectively. we will wear the same size pants. i will have wrinkles from smoking and vigorous scrubbing and she will have wrinkles from years of sun damage. our children will find the pictures silly but they will collect them any way, intrigued by the pure joy on our faces, the reciprocal sisterly love and admiration.