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“We’re Like Ships Sailing in the Night..” 🚢 ________ 🛳

An older, semi-psychotic sister comes to stay in the family home.. 🏠

By Grz ColmPublished 4 years ago • Updated 4 years ago • 3 min read
“We’re Like Ships Sailing in the Night..” 🚢 ________ 🛳
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

🏡

“Why can’t you just sleep in the lounge?” I protest.

“You know that sofa bed is not good for my back,” she says.

“And I’ve just given birth to a baby,” she continues.

“That was 14 months ago,” I squirm back!

“It should be a privilege!” Mum chimes in from the kitchen at the far end of the hallway.

“Whaaat!?” I shout back.

“I said it should be a privilege to have your dear, older sister stay in your room for a few nights while you have the lounge!” Mum repeats.

“Dear?” I scoff, “Fine, whatever”.

🏡

Not 45 minutes later, I go back to my room to get something where the Queen is now residing.

The door was ajar and I saw her going through one of my small cupboards.

“What ARE you doing?”

“I was just looking for some paper,” the Queenie chortles back. “But you never know what might come falling out!”

“Can you please not go through my stuff if you are going to be staying here, thanks. Okay? Just ask,” I say frustratedly. “Seriously”.

“Yep, okay,” she slyly smiles.

I’m so glad she was having so much fun being back in the family home!

🏡

A few hours later after dinner (about 10 o’clock) I go to get my pyjamas out of my bedroom.

I do a rhythmic knock on the door.

“Coming,” she opens the door a few seconds later.

“Why do you alway knock like mum and dad?” She questions.

“What do you want me to do just barge in while you’re getting changed?”

She seems to find this pretty funny. At least she is finding this evening amusing as I’m surely not.

I barge in after all, pushing the door fully open in order to retrieve my Pjs and I notice my blue mobile phone is ‘lit up’ on my black desk in the corner of the room. My face is glowering.

“Why were you just on my phone? I’d left it on the piano near the kitchen!”

“I just needed to use it,” she says, “I’ve ran out of credit,” she smiles.

“Right, well you could have asked”.

“Aren’t we just like ships sailing in the night,” she says in some odd, Shakespearean tone of voice, that underneath had this gleeful evilness that she just knew she was getting my goat! And I was allowing her to.

“What does that even mean?” I ask.

“You know, we’re both passing through each other’s waters and..”.

“Oh my god, you are such a freak,” I said getting more and more wound up.

“I particularly liked that picture on your phone of the…”.

“LALALALALAH! MUM!! She’s being disrespectful again!” I shout down the hallway.

“What is wrong with you,” I say to her, “I mean, actually?”

I grab my phone off the desk and get my Pjs ready for bed.

“Goodnight sister,” I say sarcastically as I leave my room.

“Might see you again before the night is out,” she chortles back.

I hate that evil laugh.

“MUM! Tell her to mind her own damn business!!” I scream, as I run back down the hallway.

🏡

- This was about fifteen years ago when we were still in our 20s, but the way she so gleefully uttered that phrase “We are just like ships sailing in the night” stuck with me! You’ll be dis-pleased to note she hasn’t changed one iota! Ironically, “passing ships” is a good metaphor for our current sibling relationship. After once being so close as youngsters (and even teens) we are now virtually ghosts in each other’s lives. Sometimes it’s best just to stay out of someone’s way, even if they are family.

*Thanks so much for reading this slice of life, observational piece for the “Passing Ships” challenge. I hope it might have made you think about your own warring siblings. 😂😅

If you liked it, please consider hitting the heart or subscribing for more to encourage my future poems, short stories and film reviews. Many thanks.

You can also check out another of my recent pieces “That ‘something’ Memory..” here:

siblings

About the Creator

Grz Colm

Film and TV reviews, 🎞 as well as short stories and free verse poems.

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    Written by Grz Colm