tonight at parentland, i showed sister #2 this thing i am working on for work. in this thing i have some text and in it, i write: “You could tell the story about how you tried to push your younger sister down the basements steps and instead of falling she socked you good and then you cried (or not).

sister #2 laughed and laughed because she remembers the time i tried to push her down the basement steps and how she socked me right in the jaw and how i said that i think she chipped my bone and mom and dad were gonna be really pissed. i think she might have cried as much as i did, begging me not to tell on her.

then she pulled up the sleeve of her shirt showing me her forearm. there are three thin white scars about an inch and a half long.

“remember these?”
“no, did i do that?”
“yes! i show jaycie and max all the time,” she said, “look, look what aunt jodi did to me.”
“when did i do that?”
“when i hit you with the tongs.”
“you hit me with tongs?”
“yes, we were still living in Blaine. We were pretty old at the time. Jodi Hanson remembers. I hit you with the tongs and you just clamped onto my arm with your fingernails. it hurt like hell.”
“wow, i don’t remember that at all.”
“it hurt.”
“i’m sorry. at least i never hit you in the face!”
“at least i never scarred you for life.”