There would have been seven of us, had she lived.
An eldest sister.
It’s a strange thought for me, a sad thought for Mom.
Would my nonexistence be justified if I had been the miscarriage and *she* had lived?
Had she been burdened with my name?
Things would’ve been different. *She* would’ve been different.
She would’ve been cheerful and popular.
I imagine someone tall with a great figure, but not without that signature look we all have.
She would’ve been older than my eldest brother, who’s married with a kid.
I’m not sure how much older she would’ve been,
but she would’ve been a bit competitive.
Yes, by now she’d have *two* kids.
That would just be her nature.
It brings up questions:
*Could* we switch, so she could have the opportunity she was denied from the beginning,
and I could perhaps give up the one I’m no longer certain I want?
Is she still here somehow?
This ghostly sister of mine, watching.
Do souls understand emotion?
If so- *if* she was watching- does she pity my sorrow?
Does she long to comfort me, but is too far from me, trapped in some plane of existence I can’t reach?
Would she have let things get this far?
I don’t think so, anyway.
She’d probably have it all together.
Shame the world won’t ever know
unless she ended up somewhere else.
Or perhaps Somewhere Else?
It’s hard to miss someone you were so far from knowing,
but knowing they probably had a better shot than you
makes you think, “How unfair.”
If she didn’t end up somewhere else, she might be lonely…
unless she chose to go.
Maybe I should join her.
Keep her company.
See what “Elsewhere” was so enticing
that she couldn’t stand to stay with Mom.