*Eyes grow wide and shift between a straight-haired blonde girl and another with unruly curly brunette hair*
“Wait, hold up. Oh. Oh my gosh. No way.”
*Smiles are exchanged between the girls*
Reaffirming the now obvious: “Is that your sister?”
The brunette spoke up, “Yeah, you didn’t know? She’s my little sister.”
“I-I didn’t know you had one. I thought that was you at first, but I had to do a double take on the blonde hair and then ‘actual’ you walked in from the other room, and just woah.”
The two girls laugh—the same way.
“Yeah we know, we get that a lot.”
“It’s the hand motions and the way we talk,” says the blonde, while consequently moving her hands in a mindless effort to explain.
“Some people call us twins. But she has blonde straight hair—I have brown and curly,” motioning to the mess on her head. “She has brown eyes, I have blue. We don’t actually look alike if you think about it.”
“Oh! And I have dad’s nose, she has mom’s.”
“There is definitely resemblance. I don’t know what it is, but it’s clear as day you are sisters.”
It doesn’t take too much resemblance to know that. It’s the late night dance parties in the living room. Or the yelling. And the laughing. Lots and lots of laughing. It’s the kind of love that says I’ll protect you with my life even though I just called you the worst possible names I could think of. It means if you want to do something, I will support you. It means if a guy looks at you sideways: he’s getting a mouthful.
So yeah, that’s my sister. And I’m pretty darn proud of her too.
Photo Credits: Thea Snider