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Accounting for Everything: Thou Shalt Not Have Any Idols Before Me (Part i)
Her name is Lauren and she has the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Even bluer that my mum's. She isn't sure what song she is going to sing. Maybe Alannah Myles' "Black Velvet" or Christina Aguliera's "Beautiful". She is 16. She smokes her Du Maurier kings and quizzes me on my knowledge of "Friends". I am surprised to find we know the same amount.
Around 2am she curls up to sleep on our pile of magazines and chocolate bar wrappers. That's when I see my sister in her face. I am taken back 10 years. That same pouty lip and soft cheek. Her eye makeup dark and a little smeared.
She takes up all the space in our tiny area allotted to us. I don't mind. I feel very maternal as I make sure her sleeping bag is tight under her chin. I stay up all night and watch over her and Nikki. There mum's aren't here and I feel as though I should be their guardian at least for one night.
In the morning, after we finish our egg mcmuffins and (my coffee) (her cigarette) she asks me if I would do some yoga with her. We leave Nikki to her copy of YM and find a spot near the water. We breathe for a bit and stretch. We begin our sun salutations.
Arms the sky (we offer up our voices)
Hands pressed together, bowing (we are humbled by our quest)
Pulling back into downward dog (we separate our desires from our abilites)
Rolling up (we hold our heads high)
Arms to the sky.
We offer up our voices.
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