When Women Wield Machetes
Tomorrow I visit my sister. I must become prepared. The woman who studies Xena's power grip moves like she's preparing for the GRE's, who scans the room for signs of "Barbie Complex" in order to crush it, who can, in the same sentence, coo sweetly and bite sharply, and who drives a car with no muffler across the country, is awaiting my arrival to her small, rotting trailer in the forest. We will sing in sister harmony, not Neild sisters, but maybe Lennon sisters. We will cook elaborate meals that cost more than dining out. We will fight like babies. We will fish dead chipmunks out of springs. We will spy on Mexican boys at the swimming hole. We will laugh like animals. We will pine for the days of pole-vauting off boulders in our yard and destroying every dainty young friend who dared to visit our secluded turf with it's dinosaur gravel pits and Ewok forts of old.
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