Faith. "Your mother named you well," my father muses. He is full of praise. For my mother for naming and raising me well. For me for traveling all this way. "She found us herself," he announces to the countless stream of singing clapping dancing guests come to witness my miraculous arrival. "She's the one!"
Adanna stretches like a cat in my lap, unshutters thick lashes. She sees me: Elder sister. The one who spoils. The exotic American. Her passport to what lies ahead, what she might become.
I stare back. I see Younger sister. The one who adores. Exotic African. The passport back home. Who I might have been.
She is popular, quick to laugh, not afraid of math and science. Her eyes speak. "I missed you." She gleams.
Copyright © 2003 Faith Adiele.