Lavender Lady

High on the third floor, big sister Nancy and I try not to stare at the emptiness, the things Mother took. Lavender walls, once tender and held pictures taunt, tease us. Where is your family? What record do you have of existence? Beneath, laughter flies up, celebrations, people speaking love and highlighting connections. The birthday song rises, celebrating life, laughter interspersed. People laugh, call each other nicknames from below. Fake insults. Dummkopf. Idiot.

How wonderful they sound.

Nancy and I try to recall the last time Mother celebrated birthdays. Said I love you. We try to conjure compliments she paid us. We can't recall them. Only the moments with each other, Nancy at my piano recitals, me at her plays. Cheering, arms in motion, connoting our own lonely love for each other.

The walls take on deeper form, reminding us of the reality. We are alone, there is no marker of our lives, but each other. We collapse against the walls, surrender.