1- the year we didn’t talk, and how we started again. - 11/1/23
I remember the year we didn’t talk. It was after years of fighting and influenced by middle school angst. When you told me I was annoying, and many words that hurt to listen to; the words that hurt because you, my brother were saying them. We eventually lapsed into a very long silence broken only when communication was necessary. That's how I remember it, but my memory isn’t reliable. I was so deep in my own sorrows I didn’t want to talk to anyone in the family, and I thought you plainly didn’t enjoy my company. I don’t think that's true now.
Show choir was the best experience I could have asked for, because it ended the long year of quiet between us. It brought joy, the joy of overcoming challenges and anxiety’s and the joy that I felt you were proud of me. I didn’t think you would come, but there you were sitting in the audience. I wanted to continue show choir; I found it exciting and fun and I think in some ways I used it to get closer to you.
I remember watching you perform the year I started show choir, sitting on the floor of the high school auditorium in my sparkling white dress and those annoying heels. Straining to see a glimpse of your positions on stage. The funny way you would mess with your hair when dancing; I always noted how you were never supposed to do that as they told us, and found it funny when you as a higher group member would.
Then the next year; The year we started talking. The year we became close, and I think it started because of show choir. Those two relieving things. When you had to take me to competitions and practice because it was convenient; when you complained, but not as much as I had expected. When we could hold a full conversation finally.
I remember the surprise of watching you sit in the front row at a dress rehearsal; you pointed me out to your friends, but not in a mean way nor a judging way. You seemed almost proud. I remember after the first competition you told me I did well and talked me out of my panicky state. The same competition your show choir won first and we took a picture together; I was smiling exhaustively and you were grinning the medal between your teeth. On the opposite side, the last competition, you were depressed and yet you stayed; you stayed because I told you I wanted to stay.
So I think that's why I was so upset when you quit show choir the next year. ‘Would we still be close? Would we still be able to talk like we could before.’ But the worry was for nothing. When I asked you to take me somewhere you willingly obliged, and we could hold conversations without them even needing to involve show choir. Like a day about a month ago when you asked me to help you clean the kitchen, I did and we talked; We talked for a long time and you told me what had happened in your junior year, I wish I had, had more words for you then.
I’m so glad we got close again like when we were young, I miss those days. Now I will miss the opportunity to talk more with you; to learn more about you and your thoughts and opinions and likes and dislikes. I’m glad we could talk again after that year, but I wish we had more years to do so. - Kat