My sister's keeper

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. The copious amounts of burgundy, crimson, and gold that splashed across the forest took me by surprise. The trees were standing upright and strong. On front center stage, they boldly displayed their colors. After a long summer that focused on hot rays of the sun and blue skies, the expanding color palette of the leaves cued the forest it’s his time to shine. The last time I stepped foot outside these prison walls, there was still a cold wet chill in the air. The sky was grey with the occasional ray of sun sneaking through the heavy clouds. Holding only a miniscule promise of brighter days to come.  As I stood in front of the prison on my release date, the sweet smell of autumn filled me with peace. I have no regrets for the last 181 days. They served me well. I can honestly say I am a better person after serving my time. I was able to set my own scene and decide how I was going to use this well invited rest from life. The judge slammed the grovel down on me, but I welcomed this time away. I hadn’t had this much time with my sister since we were kids. I was the happiest and most peaceful these last 181 days as I had ever been in my life. Isn’t it the unknown that people fear the most? Once you can see what is in front of you, you can finally breathe a sigh of relief and welcome the stillness.  Good, bad, or gruesome; at least the answer had been written on the board. That was my horrifying reality. The unknowing of how my beautiful fragile schizophrenic sister was going to navigate prison with nothing steady to hold on to. She was dragged into this cold miserable prison two years ago when she finally snapped her last sane thought. She spent the first few months of her sentence sedated in isolation. She had driven all the way down crazy lane. They slowly started integrating her into therapy sessions, art classes, and prayer groups.  That helped her turn a corner and opened her eyes to reality some. She wasn’t built for a place like this. I knew I had to be with her. Watch over her.  I chose her. I chose my illegal act that would sentence me to this extended stay with her in the prison.

As I looked around and took in my new freedom, the heaviness of sadness rested on my shoulders. I turned around and looked back at the gates closing behind me. It was still squeaking and clanking its way back to its final closing position.  I could see my breath in the cold autumn air. I sighed. I was leaving behind my other half. My closest confidant. She did not have an out date. She was sentenced to life. Those were my final days with her. Has it sunk in yet? I am numb to this reality. I suppose her illness that will eventually kill her could become her saving grace. She is her own worst enemy. The “scary people come out” and the chaotic reel plays over and over in her head. She confuses quickly and forgets often. I welcomed her imminent death. It will be her final curtain call. Her last good night. I want to lay her down to rest in peace. I closed my eyes and immediately regretted that thought.

My sister and I were inseparable. It was our destiny. We were born two minutes apart. Although our faces mirrored each other’s, we had several differences that could make us seem like strangers.  When the two of us stood at the fork in the road entering adulthood, I went one way, and she chose the opposite. Her wild and free spirit traveled with her all over the world. She experimented with drugs, rock stars, alcohol, and God only knows what else. My comfort was in our hometown making babies with the first guy that seemed suitable enough. I enjoyed my simple little life in the country with my sweet boys. They amazed me and I never felt that I was missing out on anything.  The constant wondering about my sister’s well being stung at times.  But I was genuinely happy that she was able to let go of some of the things I hung on to. She left and never looked back without a care in the world. I knew I had to stay home. I didn’t have it in me to let go and let loose.  I stayed alert and ready with my wits intact. I always expected to receive a rescue call from my sister.  Her wild days eventually did a brake check when she thought she found true love and made a baby. The baby died and it broke her to pieces. I’m certain that was the beginning of her final downward spiral. Who could fault her?  

Most everyone understood why I did what I did. I did this for my sister. I had to take back what was rightfully hers. Or take it out of the hands of the vulture who called himself her husband. I never liked him. He was toxic for her. He made her already cloudy reality worse. He calculated his game when he moved her so far away from us. Her family. The only people on this earth that truly knew how to handle her “episodes”. She learned how to walk across her rickety bridge of reality and hold tight to the familiar railings that guided her way. She needed that stability. I hated him for taking her away. I fought for two years to convince him to move her back. First, I tried to reason with him. Then I resorted to begging. By the time my anger had erupted into threats and harassing phone calls, he blocked my calls and kept her completely isolated from us. There was no way he was getting away with this. He would pay. One way or another. And he paid alright.

I extended my first two fingers and placed them on my lips. I blew my kiss back to my sister behind the barbed wired walls, raised my head, and walked to the car that was left for me. The click of my heeled boots steadied my beating heart. I still had work to do. This was only part one of my plan. I reached into my coat pocket and fumbled my cold fingers through the key ring and pulled them out. I unlocked the doors and climbed inside.  My mother refused to pick me up after my release, so she had a car sent for me. She mailed the keys and they were placed with the rest of my belongings. How thoughtful of her. I had to mentally thank her for at least doing that much. I planned on using every bit of therapy I learned at the Castaway prison paradise. I learned to soak up my current surroundings and squeeze out all of it’s potential. I also learned that not everyone has the same capacity of weight they can carry and that’s ok. I guess. I’ve never understood why some people refuse to grow within themselves and continue to limit their depth of understanding. They cover their faces with a veil so heavy, the simplest of ideas are unable to penetrate. If they only knew the amount of life they are missing out on. My mother was one of these people. She buried her head long before my sister fell off her cliff. My mother never admitted there was something wrong with her. She always called her, “her special girl”. How ignorant. She needed help. Clearly, I was the only one that offered my sweet sister the help she needed. I started up the car, placed my oversized black rimmed sunglasses on my tired face, and set off down the road. I took all the back roads to my next destination. It kept things simple. And it was a gorgeous fall day to drive through the countryside. By the end of phase two of my plan, those leaves will not be the only thing on fire.