to.
She’d say, “We thought we were done after your sister.”
Or, “You were a surprise, but a sweet one.”
To me, those words meant, “We didn’t want another one, but we’re making do.”
My sister embodied everything my parents admired.
Elegant.
Outgoing.
Blonde.
She could twirl around and earn applause.
I could dismantle a broken fan and rebuild it better, only to be scolded for touching things meant for men.
She attended ballet.
I once dismantled a toaster and got grounded for destroying an appliance.
My parents funded her
