i deserved to grow up with a lesbian older sister who never understood why she felt so weird about her little brother until i tearfully confessed to her that i think i might be a girl. i deserved a sweet older sister who saw me for the gorgeous, perfect girl i was, who tried so desperately to make sure that all the support she offered was enough, and decidedly appropriate. i needed an older sister who, in every little moment she could, tested her luck. just because she couldn’t stop herself. an older sister who loved seeing me in her handmedowns, who made sure to teach me everything a girl should know, who taught me makeup and skincare and watched cheesy girl movies with me late into the night. an older sister who got exceptionally good at hiding every exploratory glance, every searching look, who noticed how her sweaters fell off my shoulder, every outline and hint at just how perfect i might look under the pyjama pants she gave me. an older sister who celebrated every change. how long my hair had gotten, how clothes had started fitting differently on me, how much happier i seemed.
i want to have had an older sister who faltered when i told her how much softer i’d gotten. who’d try her best to steady her hands when i offered my face for her to feel, since it’d gotten to smooth. i want her to have cupped my face in her palms, brushed her thumb over my cheek, i want her to have realized right then that there was just no way around it, around how she felt. i deserved to have a big sister who pulled me in and finally just kissed me, like we were always meant to .
