To my sister, for not pretending either. To the hydrangeas. To the burned garlic.
This version of “Spending a Month with My Sister” is not better or worse than previous years. It is simply more honest. At 34 and 38 (or whatever our ages are now — the specific numbers matter less than the gap), we have stopped performing sisterhood for an imagined audience. We are just two people who share 40% of the same DNA and 80% of the same fears. Spending a Month with My Sister -v.2024.06-
This is the June 2024 reflection of a recurring experience — a month spent each year in my sister’s presence. Previous versions exist in memory; this one is rendered in real time. Abstract (or Preamble) To my sister, for not pretending either