Let’s just say I have a sister and lately she’s been asking lots of questions. She won’t stop. Usually, the questions relate to our childhood. Do I remember such and such event, say some Easter when we rolled down a grassy hill and I was wearing a white lace dress with a yellow ribbon, and had my hair in two ponytails with ringlets? Yes, that’s right. She not only remembers what clothes I was wearing, but also what I had for breakfast that day, what aromas were in the air, what flowers were in bloom. And then there’s me, having a hard time remembering the event at all.
I am beginning to wonder if, in fact, we even had the same childhood. Or, she could be having hallucinations with all those prescription drugs she takes, or her medicinal marijuana. Still, she seems pretty lucid, convincing even. I’ve become to suspect that, in fact, she has been inhabited by an alien. Now bear with me for a minute. Please don’t rush to cast judgment.
This started happening about the same time she started wearing a flower in her hair. It was a red hibiscus or something that looks like one. Next time, I’ll look more closely. Anyway, it’s one of those plastic ones with a comb in it. I thought it was an odd choice, so odd I thought I would mention it to her.
“So, nice flower,” I said to her.
“You like it?” she asked with a frosty glare.
“Beautiful. Where did you get it?”
“Oh, a swap meet,” she said.
A swap meet! There isn’t one of those around for miles and miles. If she would have said Target, I might have believed her. Oh, and did I mention that she doesn’t own a car and public transportation is unlikely. Another reason this just isn’t plausible. Let me explain something about my sister. She doesn’t like makeup and doesn’t like to attract attention. I find this whole thing odd, very odd indeed.
Perhaps she found the flower on the sidewalk and picked it up, and she didn’t want to admit this to me. That might make more sense. But then, why lie to me? Really. It’s just a silly flower.