When she’d wandered out into the rolling green of McClellan’s Glen, Sarah had no need for anything but the box, the shoes on her feet, and the light blue windbreaker she’d inherited from her sister as the cancer took hold. They were of course the same size, but months before she died, Laura had lost their healthy frame. Illness crept from within her bones and consumed every flourishing aspect of her vitality by mercilessly dissolving muscles and organs. Laura was powder now, a thirty-five year old collection of memories and dust in a cheap urn that Sarah boxed and now hugged tight by her side as cold winds took up around her. It was beautiful country, this land of their forefathers, decorated with the verdant spill of moss and the sky’s gray blessing. It was always gray here, and so when Sarah grew breathless, she knew her sister’s gray was ready to join. Ash to sky. Sky to ash. Release and forgiveness. Sarah produced the urn from the box, unscrewed it swiftly and without much ceremony spilled Laura into the wind. She felt herself rise as well; felt the green of the land spread out beneath her as she divided upward. Because they were always one, truly, Sarah knew. And it was time for both of them to sleep, so Sarah curled in the cold and as the snow fell she thought of her twin’s remains protecting her; inviting her too to live on the wind.
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My third installment in a ten photo-story collaboration with the profoundly talented @peregrinasola. I have written #microfiction to five of her photos and she did the same to five of mine. Ranjana posted her third piece as well today and so we’re up to six now! She is an incredible person and if you don’t follow her, you really should! #jsrvcollab gets you all of the stories!
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