I think that I am 104 years old.
I think that I was born in December of 1915 and you were born two weeks after me.
I think we grew up down the street from one another and went to school together and passed notes together and as soon as we learned to ride bikes we were inseparable together.
I think that we built a treehouse together and you told me that you hated wearing dresses on Sundays and I told you that I agreed.
I think that we got a little older and climbed into that treehouse together and ripped our stockings together and talked about kissing boys or the lack thereof together and I think that I told you that books were much better than boys and I think that you told me that girls were much prettier anyways and I think that I asked you if you felt very pretty and you said no and I didn’t say that I wasn’t surprised.
I think that when we were sixteen you told me you changed your name and I didn’t say that I wasn’t surprised.
I think that as soon as we graduated high school we moved to the city together and the first night there I cut your hair real short and you sold your dresses and we bought trousers together. I think you worked at the greenhouse where the people were nice and didn’t ask many questions and that was good enough for you. I think that I worked at the high school, I think I taught art, I think that the kids always asked me if I was sweet on someone and I think I always answered with a smile and a finger to my lips.
I think that you would get home before me every night and I think that you’ve always been a better cook than me and I think that I’d keep my voice down when I said how handsome you looked and I think that we had a dog. I think that we slept on one mattress and I kissed you when it was dark and you wore hats every day and somehow people would still ask if we were sisters and you would tense and hold my hand tighter and I was proud because you wouldn’t smile and I would laugh too loudly and answer “no, just friends” in that high-pitched voice I had practiced so often.
I think our families asked once a month as to when we would be finding husbands and settling down and we would answer that the right time would be the right time, and that I was happy with my students and that you were happy with your plants, and that we were plenty happy with each other. I think eventually they tired of asking.
I think we grew old together and I think that one day we moved to a new city where no one knew that you had ever had another name and no one knew that we had ever worn dresses to church and no one ever knew that we had ever been anything other than together. I think I fell asleep with a note that said “bury me next to my husband” and when I woke up I was a child and it was a Sunday and I was wearing a dress and I couldn’t see you anywhere and I wouldn’t see you for a very long time.
I think that we are very very old.
