May 29, 2008
Everyone in our family is a different height.
My dad stands a tall 6 feet tall.
He is like a cornstalk in a field of daisies.

And me, I lack height.
No matter what I do, I don’t budge an inch;
5 feet tall for the rest of my life.

Sara is ahead of the game.
At age 15 she is already 5’8 going on 7feet.
She is a giant.

But Abby, Abby is the only kid on track.
She is 5’4 at age 14.
She grows at a steady pace.
Both younger sisters are taller than their older sister, something isn’t right.

This could be blamed on my mother.
She is only 5’3.
Even two of her kids are taller than her.

She is short and she shows it.
Instead of high heels, she wears flats.
Instead of vertical stripes, she wears horizontal.
She is not ashamed of her height.

When we were little we went to the kitchen.
On the back of the door was my worst enemy; the yard sticks.
We measured each other and marked our age and height on the wall.
For a while it was fun, and then my sisters started growing faster than me
I was falling far behind.
Whenever it was my turn to measure, the yard stick laughed at me, making me feel smaller than I was.

Eventually I became immune to the situation and have to deal with it every day.
When we moved, I took a pencil and erased my markings making them disappear for no one else to ever see.

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