Young Women

How did it happen?

I’m looking into the face of a little girl; the cherub cheeks and baby lips of my sisters. All curls and chubby flesh.

And then I blinked.

I swear it was only a blink, it lasted only a second; yet that face, so familiar, like the lines on my hand, that face is the same…but different.

Those eyes are no longer eyes of a child but the eyes of a woman; burning and blossoming brightly like the light of stars. The innocence in the face is gone and is replaced with a beauty that is blinding and inviting.

And then I mourn; but my mourning seems selfish and unkind. I don’t wish away any of the adventures and fun but I don’t understand the unfairness of taking those little girls away from me.

I look into the eyes of my sisters. I share my soul with them. We bend and sway in laughter together. I hold them in my arms. Our hearts are tangled together because of the space we occupied in our mother’s womb.

How did it happen?

Where did those years go?

Where did those little girls go?

Who are these young women?

I look into the eyes of my sisters. I know them and they know me. Their faces at once so familiar are also the faces of strangers. They have changed and so have I and the years are cruel to us because they are slowly stripping our girlhood and youth from us.

I look into the eyes of my sisters as they turn into women. And I feel a lump in my throat because, in a way, I feel as if I’m saying goodbye to who they were.

But I swear that I won’t stay sad forever because I’m meeting who they are…and, my word, they are so beautiful.

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