Sorted Piles

2018.11.09-series

“I really like it when we put all of the cards in the same direction,” I said, noticing the sorted piles had all lined up accordingly. Which probably meant that I was —

“You’re maybe a little OCD,” she noted, speaking aloud what I had been realizing all at once, yet again.

Which was weird, because I didn’t think of myself really as being all that obsessive about disorder. And yet, well, there it was.

As a form of collecting and organizing the world — I very much compulsively appreciated order.

 

Sibling Rivalries

2018.09.09-rivalries.gif

They are words you give over completely as gifts, handwritten, not stored in some outbox enveloped within of SMTP headers or iMessage read receipts. A few drafts rest in my notes, but otherwise, all of those words were just out there, mostly forgotten.

Once we were both old enough to write clearly, any co-signed birthday cards became a sibling competition of sorts, for who could say more in the inscription. Not that emotional sincerity had to be a competition. But of our sibling rivalries, it produced some of the best results.

I’ve ceded that competition to her husband, who is her worthy opponent and turns thirty today.