7777 Heaven Dr.

Dear Casshole,

              The Ralph Lauren brightly colored bottle of perfume, sends my mind through an endless chain of memories. You're sweet smile, only when you want it. Your laugh that echoes in my mind like being in a hallway, and its slowly running away from my memory. Do you remember when we were so young and couldnt get enough of those Barbie dolls? How we would take the thrashed yellow cart and attach it to mom's bike, and somehow shove Sampson softie in the cart with us. When the tip of your nose turns red as soon as you step foot outside and your scarf isn't enough to keep you warm. When the lights sparkle on the mystic night and school is out for a long period of time. When you would wake me up in the crack of dawn to look at our stockings laid on the bricked fireplace where "Santa" had left them. The days we didnt want to do get out of bed, but mom said it was a cleaning day. Remember when I pretended I was doing the dishes, but sprayed you with the water, and shockingly you kicked me in the butt. By the way, thanks for that, I did get a bruise. The bruise faded, as well as time. Dying eggs for Easter became a contest of whose egg was decorated best, and somehow you managed to make it a shit colored egg that Dad named Tupac. Remember when we went to visit Grandpa and Grandma, we slept in the bed that was stiff as the floor and almost like it had never been slept in. You and I lay there, uncomfortable, and talked till we were forced to sleep.



                   Love,

                                Your Sister Brittles