a sparrow and a jay...

its a funny thing the words we throw around. like invisible balls bouncing all over the place, in and out, up and down. we duck, or swerve or ignore them completely, but every now and again one hits us square in the face.

when i first heard the word i was just a babe myself, too young even to understand what was really happening. momma has told me stories, of course, of how i was so excited. how i played alone in my wading pool that summer and cried because no one was with me to play with. how she had to explain to me that when the baby did come it would be her baby and not mine. even before she was born i tried to boss her, "well when my baby comes!" "no, jayna lea, its my baby." but i think i still thought she was mine. you can see it in my eyes in pictures.

i remember colorado. sleeping together in the big bed. how she would never keep her mittens on in the snow. how she looked sitting up there on our horse, flame, as daddy held her. my cuddle bunny. my banana incident accomplice. (you will have to ask someone who knows.)my snow angel.

i remember meridian.how we spent endless nights skating at the gym. how we played endless days on the swing set. how once i tried to move to my "own room". momma tried so hard to make a comfortable bed in the laundry room for me so i could have my own place in our small three bedroom house, when i begged her, but i only lasted one night. we had to move everything back in the morning.my play mate. my bravery. my security blanket.

i remember the carousel horse wallpaper in little rock. how we felt so special. like princesses in our castle. how we would whisper across the room to each other from our twin beds. i remember how responsible i felt for her. how i hurt when she hurt. how hard it was to watch her grow and leave me for her own independence. my shadow. my secret keeper. my giggle buddy.

even when we had seperate rooms i snuck into her bed at night. i was such a chicken and she always made me feel safe even though she is younger. we stayed up late sneaking around and watching mtv. we had slumber parties at the obriens. we took pictures and thought we were models. my confidence. my counterpart. my safe.

in texas there were enough rooms for each of us to have our own, but most of the time we shared anyway. we grew. we talked on the phone to boys. made up fashion trends. we snuck outside to talk to talyor and ryan. we passed each other notes in the hall at school. we were queens of the youth group. my bff. my partner in crime. my cheerleader.

i remember i cried when she went off to school. sure i had gone two years earlier, but only 45 min away. she always was the brave one. i know crosby thought i was crazy, but i cried the whole way home to belton the night she left, bound for daddy's alma mater in mississippi. when he broke my heart later that semester it was her call that made me decide to go back to school and get my grades pulled up to passing so i could transfer and have the courage to leave him behind. she took me in. shared her life with me. her dorm room. her friends. my strength. my savior. my light at the end of a dark tunnel.

and so began the long years we would spend in ole clinton. who would have guessed? but would we have planned it any better? all the frustration. all the sharing. all the ups and downs. and we both are better off for it. my roomie. my co worker. my helper.

and now its so surreal. dreams of memphis and hattiesburg and new beginnings that we know are God ordained, and yet, there is this sense of loss.

our whole lives everyone has told us that we are just like evie and mimi, different as night and day. but it was mimi who was there for evie until the bitter end. who would not leave her side. and when i think about it, where would the day be without the cool whipsering hush of the night's steady calm and where would the night be without the faithful rays of day's persistant promise?

in sarah ruhl's version of eurydice, she says that the word father is like the word tree. i think that is so true. but sunday on my drive down it hit me square in the face, something i have told her before. i may not know what is next for me and she may feel the same way too. we may not fully understand the years that have preceded today but one thing i know to be true. she is like the word bird to me. my nest. my feathers. my flight. my sister. and few words are greater.