I don’t talk a lot about my sister here. It’s not like I don’t have something to say about her. I’m the youngest, so sometimes I feel like I’m the least qualified to address the subject. My brother remembers her better. My parents definitely knew her better. So I’m not much of an expert on her.
There is this other thing. I don’t want you to think I’m hung up on her (me? never!) in the sense that I think she was the most special person in the world. She wasn’t. She’s special to me. But then everyone’s lost someone like that, so you know what I mean when I say I miss those things she contributed to my life.
So I was thinking about her hair. She colored it and cut it quite often. I think her natural color was auburn. Just before she died, she got this awful perm, she looked like a french poodle. What a way to go out, with hair like that.
I’ve got a picture of her on my desk. She’s got a great smile. I also have a picture of the place where her body was found. I took it last winter. It’s desolate. The trees are without leaves. The water is frozen over. The corn husks in the field are cut down to stubble. I can’t make up my mind if its the ugliest or most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.