tbd...

kind of like a *art. 

Dear Sienna, 

Let’s talk about: The Crazies. 

Sitting around our makeshift fire pit off to the side of our parents house in Vegas I mentally capture a picture of this moment: We’re laughing and not just ‘laughing’ but like roll off the side of the bed in fits of belly gut- real-genuine laughter and even though its pitch black on this side of the house I can still see their beautiful smiling faces and they’re looking back at me, all uniquely mirroring my own. 

“*a**y! Put your t*ts away!!” Isa yells up to the window as she rolls off from the edge of her seat, holding at the sides of her belly. We look in the direction she’s curled up under-in another fit of unadulterated giggles and sure enough, little b*by is flashing us her **IT's as she hangs herself from out the window, “HELLO WORLD! AbU HAS ARRIVED!” she loudly whispers in a thoughtful attempt to not wake up our parents…Holy sh*t, Sienna, these girls have not stopped making me laugh tonight. 

When I think about that day I can still imagine us there (in moms llama guest room) suspended in this brief moment of time: the warm summer night passes through the forefront of my thoughts like a shooting star: (B)beauitful and fleeting (only to be seen by those who are actually looking up) ). .    . *

It's amazing how such different people can mesh so well into becoming equal parts of the same: we’ve coined our group chat the crazies and we update its picture with (who)ever's most ‘recent’ embarrassing moment; I think someone had a tampon up her nose the last time I checked. We're not conjoined just by blood but also by fate: had I not moved here two years ago I wouldn’t have made it my personal mission to forge these forever bonds I’ve made with our three primas; and without them, I think I would have felt that much more alone. ..

Where there was once a twinge of jealousy for the roles they still play to each other's own sisters, I now feel what felt broken inside of me welding itself to the sides of their strong and protective shields.

…2, 25…

The countless nights I took refuge underneath their sisterly love . . . 2….002005…I don’t know, Sienna, but it’s a lot; and one thing is for damn sure: 

I am now theirs. 

 Clutching this mental screenshot close to my heart, I see a piece of you in each of their radiant smiles, thanking whoever, for we have been truly blessed with a beautiful (looking;) family, and I know for a fact that we would have found our way to each other eventually…I’m just glad they were there for me before all this, because it meant that much more to me after…

>I think back to that first night when they finally reached us in Long B. They didn’t  hesitate when they found me and curled themselves around my aching body. Our tears were birthed from the same pain of your unexpected departure as we desperately ached for you… I was thankful for the weight of their bodies on top of mine…for had they not been there latching me to my mattress, I fear my soul may have easily bounced off the bed and    __ __

 shatter–e d ;

“I wish I was Korean so I could call MY sister, oni…

? ? (s)is, you (A)re Korean!

Lol. Oh ya.” 

That’s a memory of you that makes me tee.hee. ^..^ 

Dad luvvvvsss to make fun of me for it, so lets just rip the fooking band-aid off: but remember when I would beg you to sleep in my bed because I was scared of the monsters hiding underneath it? But really, (!) I had nightmares of de*d bodies and I was terrified to fall asleep alone because that would mean I would be waking up just the same…kind of ironic that now I can't seem to stop dreaming (of ) you. 

But I like it though, don’t stop... 

 Because in so many ways I can feel you here (with) me now…

I see you in these moments I get to spend with our cousins, your invisible arms wrapping around our inside jokes like a hug. Your unforgotten warmth stings into my soul like the satisfaction of getting a tattoo done to its raw and painful completion. This: ________is how I’ll always choose to remember you. 

Our Aunt Chera reminded me recently that we get to choose how we honor you and *ur father, a sadly forgettable truth in the midst of the hazy chaos I chose to view my life under. But can you blame me? Grief has an interesting talent in its ability at stinking up a room…          kind of like a *art. 

For the record:                           last year was the definition of being a *art. 

Where once I shackled this pain of losing you like a weight anchored to my soul, I have become untethered and retethered (to them) again....

these scars (thankfully), cannot be seen...

Their unbroken promise to never let me stop being a sister, mends the open wound you (regrettably) left behind: it now looks like a faint and traceable scar across my forehead – __– 

Thanks for the headsm*sh, btw… you'e right, I think it was about time I woke up. 

Tings I thank them for: _________________<3 <3 <#

 <3. the countless nights they let me ugly snot into their shoulders   …tbc…

<3. Their infinitely forgiving friendships…(because like, we HAVE to be able to talk to each other at our -tia’s house(s) . o  r it's just awkward…`)

<3. Their growing wisdom: for even the youngest thou (sometimes;) schooleth the ‘master’    

<3.  the (seemingly) never ending moments of contagious laughter: 

- - - We- bounce -off -each- other like moths to a flame .^ ^ ^ 

>G: “I feel like we’re made from fire…>:)”  

           >“G!, stop hUmping her!!” <

               lol.                             

But really: 

<3. they helped find,

(me)  

I mean I helped find me too: but they ?helped also, 

So, thank uouu, be nice to your sisters.

Amen. . . 

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Love you guys. 

Love, 

Sissy