The Inexplicable, Incomparable Bond Between Two Sisters

Here, the author details magical childhood memories of growing up with her sibling, their inevitable fracture and the beautiful way in which they effortlessly find their way back to one another again.

This piece is part of a series called Creative Nonfiction Classics, a special collaboration from Narratively and our partners at Creative Nonfiction in which we’re republishing classic pieces from the Creative Nonfiction archive. This story was originally published as “We Wanted Everything” in CNF’s 60th issue.

Illustration by Roman/Narratively archive

During meteor showers, my sister and I used to lie on our backs in a clearing above the lake, above the trees, above the dam. We pointed at constellations with a flashlight, and when fire streaked the sky, we said, “There! Did you see it?” We found the cloudy arm of the Milky Way. We studied stars and fancied ourselves astronomers. Eyes big with wonder, we could have eaten the entire night sky.  

She told me the story of the Seven Sisters, the Pleiades, and how, after Orion had pursued them for seven years, Zeus turned them into doves and placed them among the stars. 

We walked to the park, dug up clay, caught tadpoles in our palms. The woods were our playground. 

Remember building forts out of blankets and chairs? Remember melting crayons on the sidewalk? Remember devouring books with a flashlight beneath the covers past bedtime? My sister and I could never read them fast enough, always needed more. Book after book, night after night. 

We wanted everything. That desire to know and touch and have and do. We were insatiable.