Dear Sister

I never got to know you, but I have seen you many times before. In the half-reflection of windows, in the forms and colours lurking in a fogged-up mirror. I've always felt your presence, the pressure of your existence. Sometimes it feels like you are the ocean, and I'm down at the very bottom of you, and I can feel you pushing me on all sides, trying to crush me like a tin can.

There is only one place where I am safe from you. I walk out into the middle of the stage to soft applause, and I dance. Tonight we are performing La Bayadère. My body moves in the familiar, welcome route. Sissonne, and I leap. Arabesque, and I stretch. Emboité, and I expand myself whole. Underneath the spotlight, I feel everyone's gaze on me. I am seen, felt, present in these moments.

When the performance ends, and the spotlight is dark, and I'm in the ocean once more, I think of you, dear sister. I catch glimpses of your face in half-reflected things. Maybe one of these days I'll turn to look, and you'll no longer be there.

Until that day comes, I dance.

Yours,
Your brother