CLOSER by Jane McGlennon, Christine’s sister I wish we’d been closer growing up, but the five-year gap was wide, I was the annoying little sister that you could not abide. I followed you round, I gawped at your friends, I tattle-taled to mum, She knew that you’d been smoking in spite of your peppermint gum. I snitched on you for drinking and grassed on your first kiss, I can see now why you weren’t enamoured with your horrid little sis. I wish we’d been closer as we grew, with less space in between, But I was an awestruck ten-year-old and you were a trendy teen. I invaded your space, I tried on your clothes, I listened to your tunes, I borrowed your spearmint lipstick and went out in your favourite loons. The lipstick broke, your loons’ hems frayed, your albums acquired some scratches, And maybe in some of your jumpers, you found some pulls and catches. I wish we’d been closer when we did grow up, when age was no longer an issue, But you went your way, and I went mine and I didn’t even miss you. Our adult lives took different routes, so polar to each other, You had your high-flying nursing career, while I was a stay-at-home mother. You were never into babies; I was never into bikes, I had no interest in mountains or going on treacherous hikes. I wish we’d been closer in our later years, When we’d learned what life can teach you. But by then you were locked in your own little world, And I was unable to reach you. My biggest regret on looking back, is being such a brat, And I will always be sorry for that. I could have tried harder; I should have done more. Perhaps we just got lazy, or maybe too tired, But you will always be the big sister I looked up to and admired.