Sibling Rivalry

The black lacquered jewelry box
was a gift for my sixteenth birthday,
a thank you for hours of babysitting
house cleaning, and running errands.
I thought it was deserved.

My younger sister fingered the shiny black surface
opened the lid and watched the pink ballerina twirl
to the music. “Lara’s theme from Dr. Zhivago,"
she said then twisted the dancer and broke it.

She handed it back saying, “oops.” The summer before
her birthday had been forgotten, and when reminded
we celebrated with a chocolate cake that broke
into pieces when it came out of the pan…“oops.”
It was an accident. No intention to harm.

I found the music box today and traced the roses,
embedded in wood, following the thorny stem across
the surface. I didn’t deserve her revenge
but it came between us the rest of our lives.
My husband she resented,
my children she rejected,
messed up my house when she came to visit,
and monopolized every conversation.

I stopped celebrating milestones
because instead of joy she brought sadness
always saying or doing something
to make things go wrong. In retrospect,

I’ve had a good life. The blessing abundant,
work respected and recognition readily available.
Maybe all she needed to hear was
“You’re special too,” but that never happened…“oops.”