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T I N Y

Tiny and Izzy were neighbors before they were born. Before they were sisters. Their moms drank tea and talked about how right now, our babies are water babies. Their gills will turn into ears and jaws. Tiny was born a little before Izzy, on the first day fall turned a corner and felt cold. Tiny imagines her mom walking down the driveway to the car, yellow leaves scratch-circling like rags about to turn into a gown. A gown, not a dress. Air like cold apples. Tiny doesn’t imagine her father there at all, and so he wasn’t. It is hard for some people to watch things that their bodies can’t do. They feel helpless, and then they are stuck.

Izzy was born a month afterwards, with so much hair her face seemed smaller than it was. After that, their mothers drank more tea. They split cheap bouquets from the grocery store, and they shared casseroles and tips for growing. Tiny and Izzy ate and watched everything together all the time, like goldfish. Eventually, Tiny’s mom went back to work at the hospital. Sometimes, Tiny and Izzy slept in the same bed. On the same rug. They lived in one house, split only by grass and cement.