Ethereal

Recollection #1: Bliss

    July 4th, 2019 (Independence Day)

   The sky popped in malicious colors, blue spreading towards the east and the west bolding with red sparks, while the middle connected the two with its white bliss. The perfection was headache-inducing and I dropped crisscrossed on the concrete, watching the scene above me unfold. It was like a live painting, a blank canvas splattered with screaming color and stars hiding behind them, embarrassed something brighter took its attention. A giggle beside me turned my head, and I watched Julieanne stare upwards in awe, her dark brown eyes gleaming as the light collected together, forming shapes and names. I hugged her, knowing she'd be cold once the show was over.

   Wind teased the hair on my neck, a chilly breeze that cooled me after a long day of almost 100° weather. The smells of barbecue tickled my nose, and I squeezed Julieanne tighter, love coursing through my veins. I was so glad she had made it. She could celebrate this day with me longer, and I'd celebrate every day I had with her for the rest of her natural-born life. She turned her head slightly and smiled at me, her short bangs hiding her eyes. 

   "I love fireworks. I love the 4th of July," She said, as we stood up together. She held onto my arm as if I was a balloon and she was worried I'd get carried away in the draft. I heard her breathing, quick and short like she had bee running. Our aunt stood behind us, gossiping with her sisters like they were 7th-grade girls again. She stared at the people surrounding us, a barrier, shielding us from the terrors of the world. 

"And I love our family....our family is nice."

   "Yeah, but Mom can get annoying. And Aunt Larissa can talk a lot if she gets carried away," I said, giggling. I expected her to join in, but she stared into the distance, and I knew what she would say next.

"You're going to be fine, Julie. You are fine. The doctor said-"

"The doctor said there was a chance it would come back, that I wouldn't be fine. Don't ignore that. I could...I could die."

I watched her, already so old for 11.

   "....Y-you're," I stopped, restarting my sentence. "Your treatment is going well. It's going so well....you're going to be more than okay, you'll be amazing. Your transplant was successful. You're going to be amazing." I starting to panic, cracking my knuckles and wiping my palms across my red t-shirt, knowing I said that more for me than for her. She noticed and took my hand, glancing at the tears in my eyes and the quiet sniffling I did when I thought she was distracted. Music was blasting from cars, and kids ran the block, throwing confetti and candy wrappers into the streets. 

   The world was different when you sat with your best friend on a curb, licking melting popsicles and half-eaten ice cream cones. It was quieter when your best friend was your sister, and your sister was sick and always tired and in pain, even after what they said would help didn't. 

   You see things differently when it's her, dizzy after the Ibuprofen, vomiting on the blanket from the hospital. When falling asleep talking is replaced by her falling asleep in the middle of Disney movie reruns. She's always tired. But when she's not you no longer hear her dancing in her room, arms high in the air and legs kicking because it's that song you heard on the road trip a few months ago. Things changed, and now loud sobs escape from the vent between your rooms because her feet are swelling and she doesn't know how to stop it. For 11, she's done so much growing up. Her valor demeanor breaks you, knowing that you should be doing better to help, doing more to make her feel better.

  I've failed if she believes she'll die of sickle cell anemia at 11. She's got so much left to experience, and she might not get to do that. After growing up with hospital visits, missed school days, and multiple doctor's offices, I thought I'd understand the signs and symptoms of anemia. After Dad was paralyzed by folate deficiency anemia, I should've been checking her for symptoms, making her eat things that would boost her red blood cell count, doing something to keep her safe. 

   The wind blew curly black hair into my face. I pinned it behind my ear and got up from my spot, stopping to helping Julieanne up when she asked to come with me. And then we walked to the river, moving through the undergrowth towards the fairy circle. The moonlight hit her shiny black braids, and they bounced as she skipped towards the circle of granite rocks. 

   This was our place, the place to go when there was nothing else to say. We learned to read faces here, emotions portraying our thoughts that converted into words through each other. The silent laughs we shared carried through the thick woods,  sticking to the canopy and shielding us from the shouts of the city. We had built something beautiful, a pleasant scene that shined with sisterhood and secrets, hidden anger, and a blanket of lush bliss.

Congratulations! You've reached the end of Recollection #1: Bliss.