They are standing on the back deck, rain pouring down, tears on their young faces.
I’m standing in the kitchen watching, breaking a little.
They make no effort to shield themselves from the rain, no effort to hide their emotions.
A few minutes earlier the younger sister ran outside to escape an argument. She’s upset that her older sister won’t play with her, upset that she never plays with her anymore.
Moments later, her older sister follows. As the autumn rain falls on her, she explains that she’s getting older. Her interests are changing. I see her plead with the younger girl. I watch the emotions cross her face and a smile sneak through now and again, when she points out what they can still do together.
The little one is screaming, yelling now, telling her sister how much she needs to spend time with her, begging her to just spend more time.
“It feels like you don’t love me anymore,” I hear the younger one say.
I’m transfixed by this scene. I hurt for them. I want them to come in and dry off. I want to hug them and make it all right again.
“Of course I still love you!” The older sister attempts to convince her that it’s just that she has other things she wants to do now and that it’ s hard for her to play pretend games all day. Things may be different, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love her.
She will always love her.
I’m locked in place, watching the sisters work through their sadness and struggle to understand how they fit in to each others world as they get older.
And then, soaked through with rain, they are hugging.