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I haven’t washed anyone’s hair since my little
sister was six and didn’t want to do anything
in life but sit in a huge plastic tub and let me
massage her warm head. I remember how I
held her in two palms and scrubbed her clean.
It felt like my hands were a gods. Like I could
absolve her of something.
But there was nothing.
She is my sister. How could there be anything. -
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Tim and Dick brothering
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Oooogh… the characterization in this is SO GOOD… the uncomfortable feeling that accompanies watching your older sibling cry… what if I cried…
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for everyone who’s ever awkwardly shuffled around a loved one’s apartment, trying to simultaneously offer support and pretend that everything is totally fine and hey would you like some scrambled eggs? can I make you some eggs?
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