I flip through our family albums noticing how quickly the first eighteen years of my life have sped by.

I pause… as splashing sunlight stimulates my eyes.

There we are.

Standing there together, holding our elementary school diplomas while huge smiles illuminate our young faces.

Our familiar brick school stands behind us, pushing us forward to new ground.

I’m wearing white. You’re wearing black.
I’m wearing a sweater and socks. You’re not.

Maybe it symbolizes what we’ve become.

Don’t you remember the day we decided to never leave each other?

We promised forever that we would go to prom together with our boyfriends, be each others’ bride’s maids, and we swore that our children would call us Aunt… even though we were not sisters.

We made a covenant.
We took our bracelets and our promises, and buried them in the field.

I was wearing white. You were wearing black.

What made you take that turn, down that darkened path?