I don’t live on a farm. Small town, yes, but a farm, no. My Aunt and Uncle however, do live on a farm, and it’s about a fifteen minute drive from my house to their house. I’m twelve years old now, and their daughter Kelly is thirteen. It doesn’t matter that she is only five months older than me, because she insists that it makes her my elder, no matter what, and therefore the boss of everything. The subject is visited often, and I usually just laugh it off and give her a pass, she is my best friend after all. Although, there is the rare occasion when this very subject is cause for war.
Neither Kelly or I have a sister of our own, so being cousins, and together regularly, we’ve practically adopted each other as such. She is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real sister, and I’m the same for her. I have two older brothers and she has one. This make us both the babies of our families, and we’re absolute brats to play the part. The great thing about our closeness is that we are able to beat the living tar out of each other, and then bandage up and embrace in a hug afterward. Which also happens regularly.
It’s not an uncommon event to either wrestle one another into submission, or even take hold of kitchen utensils and/or remote controls to use as our choice weapons in assault. Arm pinching wars, dirt claude fights, and dead leg competitions are very routine. This might make us sound un-lady like, or even a tinsy bit like motherless brutes; but hey, if the shoe fits wear it, right!? Our mothers are actually pretty fantastic to give us space to live so free. Sometimes we get to act like wild animals, and it’s great.
Last night I slept over at Kelly’s farm. Now, the sun’s rays are peeking through a crack in the drapes of her bedroom window. The inch wide, straight line of blinding light, lands right on my face. It forces my eyes to squint open and my face to bunch. I groan and roll to my side hoping to hide from it’s irritating brightness and heat. Rather than finding comfort I find the floor, with a very hard thud.