ladybug,
you will believe in whatever seems to be beautiful; you are a dreamer, and you still believe in the fairy tale romances I whisper when the lights go out. you still love - fiercely and simply and trustingly - but you bruise so easily.
ladybug, ladybug, fly away home,
you house is on fire and your children alone...
I can scare you with the fewest words - of burning houses and dying people and disease and monsters under the bed. you still think you will be able to fly away and view the chaos from above. but after a while you'll find that your heart is too heavy for takeoff.
fire-eyes,
is it a part of growing up, the constant tears? I can't remember; you'll have to teach me childhood.
why don't you smile anymore? instead your eyes shine and the tears dance like stars before they fall. I want nothing more than to catch them until I have enough to throw my penny-wishes in.
I used to hand you tissue boxes when you cried. now I let you weep in hopes that your tears will run out and when you grow up you can be stronger than I am.
little pilgrim,
at night you would curl up beside me, and I would read you stories. the chronicles of narnia. stuart little. peter pan.
I remember where we left off - halfway through little pilgrim's progress. I didn't want to hear any more happy-ever-afters and all the people who were too good to be true. now I cling to those endings and try to fit them into the conclusions of my life. it never works. but it's so easy for you to envision happiness - I hope you will never hurt enough to stop pretending. you still kneel in front of crosses and recite the lord's prayer. you still believe in the one who calls himself god.
little pilgrim,
let's pray you can reach heaven before you die.
always,
chloe
Author notes
just a bundle of disconnected thoughts about my sister. she's eight years old, pretty as snow white, sweet, and absolutely tone-deaf. her favorite color is pale pink, like roses and blushes. she's dressed up as a ladybug for halloween since age 3 to age 7 - now she's moved on to princesses. [when she was tiny, my mom put her in a little pumpkin suit, with a sweet orange cap. she was so round and squishy then! awww. 
] however, she's a bit spoiled. I think I'm to blame for that, haha.
Comments
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This is sweet and beautiful and full of wonderful messages to pass on to your sister. I have two little sisters myself and I recall living through many experiences similar to those you have written here. The only thing I have to say against this is you might want to capitolize the beginning of each sentence and all the proper nouns... not an order, or a "fix it or else" lol... that's just me being a stickler for proper grammar and punctuation
This was truly lovely and wonderful! -
A sweet write. You definitely expressed your feelings for her in this. You should really write a journal. My favorite stanzas:
"you still think you will be able to fly away and view the chaos from above. but after a while you'll find that your heart is too heavy for takeoff."
"I want nothing more than to catch them until I have enough to throw my penny-wishes in."
[when she was tiny, my mom put her in a little pumpkin suit, with a sweet orange cap. she was so round and squishy then! awww. ]
But you wrote...
I hope you will never hurt enough to stop pretending.
Pretending to what? Pretending to envision happiness? I imagine that she's not pretending. Maybe you should alter your word usage.
And you wrote...
let's pray you can reach heaven before you die.
That's a deep ending, but don't you think the phrase "before you die" or even just the word "die" might, how do you put this, be a little too strong.
It's amazing how you combined emotions and thoughts into one colossal {and moving} piece.
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Nice little tribute to your sister.
Beautiful writing!
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a tender young soul and a lovely write.
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