Sunday, July 06, 2014

Pride and Produce

A short story could easily begin here...


My twin sister Meredith's lawn was green. Green because her husband Max fertilized with the passion of a man with nothing better to do. Meredith slipped her squat, middle-aged body through a break in the hedge between our properties. She picked her way over to my garden patch. I watched her out of the corner of my good eye, but I didn't turn my head. I wrestled with handfuls of weeds and plucked a strawberry by mistake. Damn. It was still white, only the tip had ripened to pinkish red. But the strawberry was big and perfectly formed and grown in good soil. I knew after half a day on the window sill it would transform into pure sweetness.

Meredith watched me gingerly lay the strawberry aside. She smiled and snorted, "What a sad little white strawberry." I didn't immediately reply. What did Meredith know of strawberries? She was more of an indoor type, an admitted "brown thumb." 

I suppose that is my point. My sister had no business judging my produce and yet she did. Because judgement allocates power and Meredith knew this even if she didn't. With masterful precision, my sister nipped my pride and shoved me back into line. She protected what she considered her rightful spot as the Alpha in our family. 

But I won't let anyone make me their fool. "I saw Natalie this morning," I replied. At the mention of our younger sibling I saw Meredith's lazy grin fade into an alert expression. As I knew it would. 

"She needed someone to confide in about her job at the law firm
and…" I stopped and slipped a hand over my mouth. "Now I've said too much," I sighed. "Natalie specifically told me not to tell anyone else about our conversation."


Meredith wheeled around and stalked home. I grinned and carried my white strawberry into the house. I should have known that day my sister would die my enemy. But I didn't recognize the signs for what they were until later.



I think the rest of this story would have to do with sacrifice. What some are willing to sacrifice to prove that they are in the right. Or maybe to prove they are in control. 
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