In the Miles Between

I lived my life mostly alone.
 From the start, I learned to play with my toys by myself.
 I never felt lonely—I believed I could manage just fine on my own.
 Devices were my only friends to fill the silence.
 In classrooms, I often felt like an outcast.
 Some would talk about their siblings,
 and it made me realize how far I was from mine.
 I’d watch my classmates laugh and share secrets,
 and it hit me that I’d never truly placed my trust in another.

When people complained about their siblings —
 their fights, quarrels, and petty disagreements —
 I couldn’t help but feel they were bragging,
 though it was never their fault.
 

My brothers and sisters seemed so perfect,
 while I doubted I was anything more than just a name to them.
 I didn’t know much about their lives;
 I never had the courage to call or text.
 They seemed so busy, and I hated the thought of intruding.
 

But when they greeted me—with a smile, a playful jab, or a thoughtful gift —
 those moments bridged the distance between us.
 I respect them with all my heart and life,
 because they’ve done something no one else has:
 they still call me their sister, even through all the miles in between.