I remember when she was 11 and I was 7

I always got my sister’s old hand me downs. My mom would put the big shoes on my feet. She’d squish the ends to see if they would fit. She would tell me, before I knew it, I’d be in my sister’s shoes.

We made sticky mud pies and told stories. Got grass stained knees and carpet burns. It was nights of lightning bugs and cart wheels that made the world turn.

I remember when she was 15 and I was 11

She didn’t like looking in the mirror but she would still look. She hid behind her hair and cut herself bangs. Friends were scarce because children are cruel. This I came to know too well.

I remember when I was 15 and she was 19.

Social circles became webs to navigate. She said, they said, who said, who cares? They care, I don’t, What happened? Unfair!

I don’t know how, but we made it out in one piece.  First my sister, and then me.

Now she’s having a kid, and I’m 19.

I know I’m next.

The next sister in line.

If I’ll blink, I’ll miss it.

My mother was right.

Before I knew it, I’d be in my sister’s shoes.