A Sister’s Treasure

4:59 pm

I hear my sister’s whisper from deep underneath the bed, “Ok, I’ve got it.” Reaching to wrap my hands around her skinny adolescent ankles, I drag her out. Dust bunnies sprinkle her hair. I reach to brush them out as her nimble fingers carefully lift open the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in a wad of lavender tissue paper, rests a delicate glass hummingbird. My sister trembles as she lifts the figurine, looping the thread that it hangs from around her finger. The hummingbird dangles in midair. She holds it up for me to see. The fishing wire that supports it is barely visible. I imagine the creature has sprung to life. The fragile wings, unmoving for now in the midst of a moment, could at any second burst into motion and carry the bird beyond my sister’s grasp. I reach , hoping to hold the treasure before it darts away. Lifting my hand, I let my sister shift the string from her finger to mine. In that moment of contact, the grandfather clock strikes, jarring me. My sister and I jerk our hands apart as if a shock had passed between us. The hummingbird, freed from our touch, rises for a moment to escape, then spins towards the ground, accompanied by the clanging of the clock.

5:00 pm