A Bond between Sisters :: Personal Narrative

A stick by between SistersThe kitchen is sweltering, like everywhere else in the house, so the ice melts chop-chop as I drop it into the pitcher of freshly brewed mint tea. A fly buzzes around my head, and I try not to flinch as I pour five glasses of the light green liquid. wiz is for dad, who is in the garden picking tomatoes, an separate for mom who is diligently preparing for tomorrows birthday party, and one is for my youngest sister Rachel who is running around the neighborhood with her dog. I harbour a sip from one of the remaining cups and carry the last to my other sister, Anna. Though I have not heard from her in hours, I know she will be sitting in the same send I last saw her reclined on the porch chair, feet rested on the railing, and reason deeply lost in her newest science fiction or fondness novel. Anna, would you like some tea, I offer as the screen gateway slams behind me. She doesnt move. Anna, I try again, this time tou raiseg her shoulder with my elbow. She turns her chin towards me, but her eyes continue scanning the page until she has reached an appropriate stopping point. She lifts her slightly glazed, hazel eyes towards mine, unwilling to disengage from the world created by Anthony Piers or Terry Brooks. The corners of her mouth curl upwards, eyes slightly make a face from the coruscant sunlight, and she reaches out her empty hand, decorated with an intricate tinge design, to discernment the sweating glass of tea. My sister and parents have settled on henna as an acceptable form of body art, as opposed to piercings, tattoos, or even hair dye. My sisters artistic talents and desire to decorate herself have been manifest since she was little when she longed for the day she could wear the makeup that mom donned every Sunday. atomic number 53 morning, my sisters desire and daring five-year-old spirit got the better of her, and she snuck a tube of bright red lipstick to church. Our mother was mortified, but most of the congre gation sight it amusing to see Annas crimson lips. Annas artistic side has manifested itself in umteen other ways. She carried a sketchbook, making drawings of the various churches we visited, our family, or the creatures in her imagination. In her late elementary school years, Anna discovered the joy of using beads to make jewelry.