This I Believe

Rachel - Chicago, Illinois
Entered on January 8, 2007

‘This I believe’ essay

I enter my sister’s room, the floor soft as the sea. I can hear rain falling like an army upon the ground outside and hear the patter of its feet as it hits the ground. Here, I can see the world beneath the room in which I stand dampened and made anew. From where I stand there is a sight like no other; it is the fresh snow still hiding between bits of rain like children darting to hide from a stranger but most of all, I can smell the pinecone wind that circles the room. It is common for me to notice such things in the silence of my sister’s room; at least when it is empty. It is not unusual to find me wandering like a traveler from empty room to empty room in our house and hers is my favorite by far but, there is something different about today.

My mom and dad are downstairs talking in low whispers as tears run down my face and yells echo past my amber tufts into my noise reluctant ears. I tilt my face towards the window again as the flashing light of a car lights my face with shadow. Below, I can hear my sister coming up the stairs to say something to me, her voice is lighter than a feather and as soft as the wind as she speaks but, I interrupt her instead. “They don’t understand anything!” I scream at the same time as she does in her own voice, and reach her own gaze to find a look of suffrage and hurt but, she is the first to smile and I allow myself to calm down.

Downstairs, I can hear the clank of silverware and smell a tempting meal but, I will not be tempted by it yet. Instead, I look at her; my only sister as she stands next to me. In our minds, similar thoughts take light and sizzle down like lightning from the sky. Looking through her eyes as she is looking through mine, I realize something as clear to me as the glass cat my sister keeps in the room; all that humankind can do is comfort each other and try their best to understand but, in my heart, I know one thing to be true as my sister and I watch the pounding rain match our silent tears. It is from her, I feel the message comes from and even as she smiles and leads me like a hero down the stairs, I repeat these words in my mind over and over again.

No matter how much I try or how similar my life may be to that one person closest to me and that one person I want most to be able to understand, I will never truly be able to and that is what I believe most.