always my sister, always my friend

She popped up and down grabbing a blue egg from the grass a green egg form behind a rock. I bobbled along after her, every now I would squat next to an egg, examine it and place it in my basket.

            “Mary go over there.” Camille points across the yard. I turn to look in the direction she suggested. During this brief lack of immediate attention, Camille takes the opportunity to transfer my few eggs to her basket. I toddle over to a tree and Mom comes to help me catch up to Camille’s almost full basket.

           

            “Mary I’m so sorry.” Camille and I sit on the couch as the family laughs at the home videos of Camille and me in flower dresses and baskets.  I chuckle as my helium baby voice emits squeals of pleasure from the television. The whole thing is just too funny.

            “I was such a bad sister,” Camille continues. I just keep laughing, her apologies make it funnier. That was over 16 years ago and she still feels bad. Of all the things I’ve done to her and she to me, and she still feels guilty about stealing my Easter eggs when I was three.