For My Sister

by Maggie Eaton

I won’t live long, you murmured as we sat on the deck gazing at the lilac-hued
mountains, backlit in early twilight
Fireflies flickered star-like in the emerging blackness
Don’t say that, I murmured
Not wanting to imagine saying goodbye to these beating moments like raindrops
Pelting us with memories
Sisters riding to Church with our Grandfather
Hoping for candy afterward if we were good
Moving the pig fence you deserted your post in terror
The Black Angus steer thundered toward us
I waved my stick and shouted
And when our mother was dying we made the journey home together over hundreds of miles
Sitting for hours listening to the undulations of her gentle breaths like the waves
We used to be able to see from the windows
In the living room facing the bay.