On Sharing

We're built differently. She has a smaller frame, slender fingers and feet. Her eyes blue, her skin darker and unblemished by freckles. Unlike me, with my thin net of freckles over skin so pale that in the winter it's nearly transluscent. My feet have always been bigger; all of me has. Broader shoulders, rounder knuckles and knees, breasts.

Of course, none of this ever deterred me from raiding her closet. I'd do it and return shirts to their hangers, clean, but stretched so much that when she'd wear them, they'd hang loose over her narrow frame. She hated that.

Today, we share everything. It's a habit we've nurtured over the past decade. We share clothing, couches, food, burdens, experiences, everything. And today, even this; the one thing I wanted to keep for myself.

But now it's on her, draped and heavy over her shoulders and I can't take it off. Can't make it only mine again. And I finally understand, there are some things sisters shouldn't have to share.