Memories. Dreams. Distant. Vague.
I watched silently as Jero ran around, trying to avoid the waves. Once in a while he would dive. A speck on the horizon. A speck on a giant canvas of blue water, golden sand and clear skies. At least, that is how I remember it. And I don’t want to remember it any other way. Every once in a while, Jero came back for a sip of water. And once in a while, i would be able to hear his voice, as he sang at the top of his voice. Once in a while, he would do something so ridiculous, it would make my mother scream, and it would make us laugh until our lungs could not catch air.
Now, I watched him running towards me. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out into the sun, towards the water. I tried to fight back, but then he took out his weapon – “The Claw”. And with The Claw (his thumb and forefinger) he tickled me without effort. Then he would run after me with his methods of “torture”, telling me to fight back, asking me where my strength was. And I would reply, asking him what strength he was talking about. “That which proves you’re my sister!” would be his reply, and I would laugh, because I knew he was joking. He only said those things to me. Others would take it too literally, and that would become offensive. That was OUR thing. OUR understanding.
