sixty seasons
have failed to erase those fractured images
that defined our relationship forever;
you were the baby
I was the big girl
bonded in blood
birth order assigned us our roles;

you wore mischief well
so you needed watched over
big sister became me
I was groomed for the part.

Our first summer vacation
A camp on the creek.

The morning hung heavy a blanket of heat
the water whispered
demanding a dip
mom and dad were tucked in their bliss
fast asleep in their comfort of family
we donned our suits and scurried away
but my childhood got left behind
doomed to evaporate in that act of defiance;

we spotted the marker a bamboo pole
then you bolted and sprung from my grasp
in an effort to grab you I slipped on a rock;

in slow motion panic captured your drifting
in a flash you were bobbing and flailing about
while I just stood on the bank
weighed downed by my six year old stature;

my vocal chords thawed
I released our dilemma
help arrived not a moment too soon
the sink hole was sucking you
into my guilt
going once
going twice...
dad yanked you to life by your curly long ringlets
in her moment of panic
mom pushed me aside
in that one angry jerk
I caved branded and bleeding;

you sputtered and coughed
I watched from a distance
I leaned into a tree for support;

from that day forward I stepped up to the plate
and never failed to protect you
but now as we age
and guilt is no longer a factor
those roles are in danger
of being reversed.