When I saw the prompt for week 30 of the gallery, I knew what I needed to post.
There’s this pic of my girls:

And there’s a fairly dreadful shot from way back when of us girls.
This is what I think of when I think of the girls. Us, as children. We were the girls, four of us – can you tell which one is me? It’s a part of my identity, being one of four.
Here’s another pic of one of my sisters that I adore.
I don’t think she’d be very happy with me posting it tbh, but then again, who looks at their best just after giving birth? That’s my youngest sister, Katrin. She can’t argue with me about posting it though, because she died a little while back.
Sharp intake of breath. A while ago. If I close my eyes I can hear the phone ringing, can transport myself to the hospital bedside, can touch her cold hand. I can’t actually remember if I did touch her hand, but it seems like I did.
So, I was one of four and now somehow I’m not. How does that work then? Still feels like I should be one of four, even if I can’t reach out to her any more.
So that’s my take on the girls. Sorry it isn’t very cheery 🙁 I’ll finish with another lovely picture to cheer us all up.







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