Sometimes I ask Mommy,
“Why doesn’t my sister talk like me?”
Mommy says, “She talks in other ways.”
I don’t always know what that means.
My sister makes these sounds—like little songs.
She waves her hands in front of her face like she’s painting something in the air.
She doesn’t say “hi” back when I say it.
But sometimes she lets me sit next to her when she’s watching her spinning wheel.
It’s gold and shiny and it goes round and round and round forever.
I like when she lets me be close.
One time, I gave her a cookie from my lunch. She didn’t say thank you,
but she smiled and touched my hair.
I think that meant thank you.
One time, I tried to make her play tea party with me.
She got upset and threw the cup.
I was mad, but then she cried, and I didn’t feel mad anymore.
I gave her her blanket and she stopped crying.
She really likes that blanket. She hums with it.
Sometimes I feel like she lives in a different world.
One where everything is louder or brighter or faster.
But sometimes… she lets me visit.
And I think that’s pretty special.
I still wish she’d talk to me with words.
But I’m learning her language.
Slowly.
Like when I watch the spinning wheel with her, and we both smile at the same time.
Maybe that means,
I love you, too.
