Excerpt/my sister Terry

I sat at my desk and focused all my energy into not crying. This makes me cry harder. For example, I know my oldest sister Terry has cried at work. Terry wouldn’t volunteer this and I wouldn’t dare ask her, because of the inevitable lesson involved, “Well Sheila, are you asking if Terry Jean lets her emotions temporarily get the best of her? Yes. And this is important for you to know right now, are you listening? You find an appropriate time, and you must always have Kleenex available, office toilet paper sticks inside your nose, okay, at the appropriate time, you make your way to the ladies room, you lock your stall, and silently, Sob. Into. The Kleenex.” No doubt this is exactly what she does (and exactly what I should do according to her). I’ve seen her cry, but the great news is, she weeps real tears for a solid minute and then she recovers, not only completely, but gracefully. The quick transformation, recovery, is not an ostensible gesture because it’s real, like magic. And that’s Terry. Terry. Is. In. control. Of everything, all of the time.