Monday, July 18, 2011

Dear Tams (every summer you were just here),

This morning I woke up and wanted to say something to you. Something about my dream. It was funny. You would have laughed. But shoot! You weren't on the other side of the bed—

So instead, I had a moment of silence for all the early mornings and late nights and Sunday afternoons we spent hiding/taking naps up here in your old room. For the nights when I said you were texting too loud. And for the nights when you'd laugh because I was breathing too loud.

I moved the fan in here this morning—that's usually your job.

What I really wanted to say is that just now, Becks made me come into the bathroom to see a spider. She claimed it was gigantic.

It was actually HUGE. 

We were wondering what we could kill it with. A cup? The swiffer? My hiking shoe?

We were both wanting to throw up a little. I was pretty sure I could persuade Becks to kill it because she's older—but I wasn't positive, and I felt guilty because I think I made her kill the last one.

Spencer walked past just then. He hates killing spiders. You know this. But by now Becks and I were hopping up and down and slightly screaming because the spider was about to get away. So he took my shoe and killed it real fast.  All 3 of us just stood there looking at its dead body. We decided it was the biggest we've ever seen. The biggest of the species. Becks got a tissue to clean it up, but it was so big—we still didn't want to touch it. Spencer had to clean it up. Which really really wasn't fair.

Anyways, if you were here, we would have discussed how lucky we are to have brothers who don't mind killing insects for us. Even though we're grown up.

I love you. Forever.
Double forever.

1 comment:

  1. I'm feeling left out... Just kidding, but can you write about when you share a bed with me and wake up yelling at me to stop turning the (automatic) a/c on and off?? love you!

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