For several seconds, we just kept looking at each other.
It was like seeing myself at a distance, only her hair was shorter, and she wore glasses. She was twisting a napkin between her fingers, exactly the way I did when I was nervous.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” I replied.
She gave a small, uncertain laugh. “I practiced what to say in the car. None of it sounds right now.”
“Me too.”
I took out the blanket and laid it on the table.
“You made these?”
“I did. I’m not very good at embroidery. The stars took forever.”
“They’re perfect.”
She reached across the table, stopping just short of my hand.
“I don’t expect us to become sisters overnight,” she said. “I only wanted you to know I was here.”
I took her hand.
“You don’t have to disappear again.”
We talked for an hour.
There were questions neither of us could answer, and years we couldn’t get back.
