An easy love

For my sisters, whom I miss very much

Sitting in a classroom one day, my psychology teacher taught us about intuition. She said it was system one thinking, heuristics and decision making. But I know what intuition is. She comes visiting almost every day, delivers a vital and fleeting touch when my sisters’ eyes land upon me, and she knows what troubles me. Intuition comes tapping on my door late at night, when my sister crawls in bed bedside me and comforts me with words no one else would know to say. Intuition lies between tight hugs and constant company. In early morning kitchen conversations, when she knows what will make me break up into a million hysterical fragments of laughter before I have to recompose myself. I know them too. One head of ever changing colours, another of a nutty brown. A chaotic and rebellious mind intimately understood by one which shares half of it. Another mind, more soft and forgiving, but tumultuous like the former. Yes, I know her too. I am slowly advancing my army of understanding upon them both, they are almost overpowered. But they conquered me long ago, laid my mind bare and saw it for what it is. In the end, I waved the white flag, because their army was gentle and strong, and I loved its company amongst my troops. Even in distant lands, the voice of intuition rings like a muezzin, and I feel transparent, seen as easily as a still lake. I have been unmoored, and left lonely, as I took that inevitable step forward in life and left them behind. But I know they know this. Intuition is effortless knowledge. I look upon two sets of eyes - one brown, one green, and between us, connection is reflected. We gave each other our life journals long ago, and when I opened mine, I saw my thoughts written in two different hands