Little Sister
I remember when my first grade teacher
had us all say how many sisters and brothers we
had.
I said three and a half sisters. Mrs. Adams
laughed
and told everyone that I was getting a new
sister or brother.
A brother? No way. I couldn’t imagine such a
thing.
In later years I missed having a brother,
but when Mrs. Adams mentioned the possibility
it sounded silly. One day when I got off the
school bus
Mom stood on the porch calling to us, waving a dish towel.
She had been in the hospital for a week or so.
We ran up to the house and into the living room
and there sat a bassinet with yellow
everything.
There she was my baby sister. I thought so,
Mrs. Adams.
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