Dear Sister – A Tale of Two Rabbits

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Dear Sister,

I’m sorry that I hurt you.

I don’t know why I do it.  If I knew then maybe I could stop.

I know you’re only three and you can’t understand why I do this to you, even though you asked Mummy why do I get angry every day?  You even try to help me – you bring me my rabbit and say this will calm me down.  I look at you and wonder why you are still being nice to me even though inside I’m ugly and mean.

You know that day I hit you so bad?  You know when you had to go to stay at nanny’s house just to keep safe? Well that day I told mummy that she should leave me outside and let all the meanies get me.  They should throw me in the jail for what I do to you.

I know I can’t always say it or show it to you, but that night (when you were fast asleep), I stroked your curled up fingers and whispered into your ear “my am sorry.”

I’m sorry because I love you.

I love you even though we have different colour rabbits.  Yours is pink and dotty, mine has all the colours of the rainbow – you know I don’t like to choose just one colour!

Your rabbit is just like you dear sister.  It’s small and contained and perfect.

Mine has one green ear and one orange ear just like me.  I wish I could be orange all the time but sometimes I can’t stop being green.

When I listen with my green ear then I see things differently.  I know you only moved one of my toot toot cars out of place but I didn’t like it.  I couldn’t find the words in time to tell you that, I just shouted and threw it at your head.

Mummy always tells me to blow out my candle to help me calm down, but the anger keeps bubbling over.  Like when you have an accident and get hurt, I don’t know why but I come and hit you after.  Please help me stop.

I like it in the mornings when we get to school.  You squeeze my hand as I take your rabbit off you and I place it into your book bag.  I kiss you on the cheek – but not a wet kiss because you say you don’t like kisses!  You smell warm and sticky and I like that smell because it reminds me of you.  I like being the big sister.

But why are you so clever?  You are good at everything, sometimes I wish I was more like you.  I ask mummy why do I have this brain?  Why don’t I like people?  When I get older will I like them then?  Mummy says I’m clever too but sometimes I find it hard to believe her.  If I was clever, then I could find a way to stop hurting you.

I’d like to be the one with the pink spotty rabbit for a change.

Dear sister, thank you for playing with me on the orange days and not giving up on me when I’m green.

 

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