My sister and I are 
 long accustomed 
 to fighting.
 
 She doesn't think
 I'm doing enough
 with my life.
 
 I don't think
 she's doing enough
 with hers.
 
 Into my son's letters
 goes a gummie
 and a gum.
 
 Without the extra postage
 the letters come back
 covered in marker
 admonishing me.
 
 So I am careful to
 align two stamps
 dress right dress.
 
 I am also careful to eat
 no more than a few 
 of the gummies.
 
 I feed my son things
 my sister would never feed
 her children.

 She judges me for it
 as I judge her.
 
 I have seen my sister
 eat an entire chocolate bar
 numerous times.
 
 Not suddenly. 
 But bit by bit
 until nothing is left.
 
 It's actually not that unusual.
 I have done the same
 but faster.
 
 It's silly to feud
 with your sister
 when there are 
 so many others
 worth fighting more.
 
 So I offer her things
 I spot around Avia's kitchen:
 a cup of chai, some chocolate,
 a bit of cheese.
 
 Things she has bought.
 But still.
 
 Our mother taught us
 how to love.
 
 This is too important
 to ignore.
 
 Using my phone
 my son takes pictures of
 Avia's garden.
 
 35 pictures he takes.
 
 Of stone turtles
 hanging chairs
 the upper half
 of a pine tree
 snapdragons
 a colony of mint 
 a plastic dinosaur
 a small mound of rocks
 covering a tree stump
 the side of my head
 the front door
 but from a distance.
 
 It is silly to feud 
 with your sister
 when there are 
 so many others
 worth fighting more.
 
 Into my son's letters
 goes a gummie
 and a gum.