“Sister, I’m Here”

Here is the second part to the two-parter I posted last Saturday. Enjoy!

 

            “I’m here, sister.”

            My sister. There she was. And she was looking at me.

            Oh, my sister. I ran to her arms. This room was bringing me to my knees. And there was my sister, in the room with me, and she saw me. She knew I was there. Someone knew I was there. Someone saw me!

            Her slim, pale arms embraced me. I was in a different place now, the place of my sister’s arms. Nothing changed; the voices were still there, but everything melted far away in the background. They were only just an echo you hear when you shout from a mountain side. Her voice was clear. Clear and solid and beautiful. I felt hot tears stain my face, and thank God they were hot. I was warm again, like being wrapped up in a blanket on a rainy afternoon. Nothing could hurt me here. I was safe. I was really safe. It wasn’t that simulated safety that had tricked me all those years. How often did I feel like I was in a machine? But not anymore. This was no machine. It was real, very, very real.

            I’m here, sister.

            Indeed, here she was. I had purpose now. A soft-spoken, understood purpose. The room smelled fresh, like a clean, thick robe straight from the dryer. The air no longer pressed into me, but rather smoothed across like water, crisp and serene. The coffee turned to the scent of tea. I love tea. Cucumber and spearmint. Who cared if I didn’t have the strength to stomach all the stuff others could? I drank my tea, and I always felt new. This moment was lovely. This moment was perfect. This moment, I was transformed.

            I woke from my dream, and I was glad to not be in that room anymore. I knew where I could really call home now. Someday, I hope I can be the one to say it.

            “Sister, I’m here.”

 

Let me know what you think in comments!

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