Before sister was born brother and I cut down the old weeping willow behind our house. We made sister a crib out of that old weeping willows bones in hopes that it would save her from falling between the cracks of mothers worn down bed.

After sister was born brother fell from the kitchen table with rope around his dry neck. And a note stuck in his sock. “I got the job”

After brother was buried mother started dancing with the pastors who carried hollowed out Bibles. She wore long dresses and no longer hid in her worn down bed. Mother left a note on the kitchen table. “I took the job, feed your sister”

After mother took the job I fed my sister leaves and fresh water from the stream that runs under our porch. Sister and I never left notes about jobs. We never ate at the kitchen table and our beds never became worn down. I grew old. She grew up. She married a man who already had a job. She had children who never feared falling between the cracks of her worn down bed.

After sister married. After sister became her own. I left a note on the bathroom sink. “I never could hold a steady job” I fell between the cracks in mothers worn down bed.