My little sister was just eight years old when she lost somthing very important. She tried to hold it for as long as she could, but in the end, it was too heavy. Little girls can only hold their breaths for so long, as one knows.

Underneath the ice, she lost my most prized possession, her life.

She’s gone. Her high strung energy was ripped away from me.

I need her again.

Just to see her from time to time, I jump in the puddles when it rains. I fly an old red kite when the wind picks up. I sing along to the radio when I drive down the coast. I ask the squirrels if they are ready for winter, but I see her most when I cry under the cover of moonlight. She comforts me, and I can hear her voice clear as a bell.

“Please, don’t be sad, I just want you to be happy. Remember to think about me sometimes though, okay? Please don’t ever forget me.”

Every night the moon hears my earnest oath.

“I promise I won’t.”

Then I fall into sleep knowing my sister will never be lost to time as long as I live.