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The Peach Tree

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We used to be so close.
I still have a picture of you stealing my cookie and me scowling back.
Now you are afraid to steal my cookies because you don’t know how I would react.
You don’t know me.
I don’t know you.
I remember you trying to help me kick down the “For Sale” sign in our yard so no one would see.
We both cried like the little girls we were.
I try to find words to express myself, but when you visit
We sit on my bed and ask each other about school,
As if we haven’t already heard that it’s fine.
I remember the swings in both of our backyards, and how we would always yell “HIGHER, HIGHER!”
As if there were no trees to hit us down.
I remember the summer night barbecues and how your sister is afraid of small dogs,
And how you taught me to rollerblade and how I showed you horseback riding, which you hated, even though you didn’t say it aloud.
I remember you helped me plant a peach tree in my backyard so I wouldn’t forget my home.
We were like twins, only separated by age and appearance.
We had water balloon fights and sleepovers.
We liked to compete with each other, but somehow always ended up in the same closet while playing hide-and-seek.
But then you changed schools and so did I, and you got older and I got older, and you changed and I changed.
Now all that remains are distant memories and arranged get-togethers.
But I will always remember you as my first and closest friend; my sister and partner-in-crime.
I love you so much, even though I’ll never know what happened to the peach tree.




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