In the car my sister and I are passing notes back and forth. She is deaf so we can’t laugh and giggle like regular sisters but we have our own ways of communicating. We are just like normal sisters we just have different ways of being twins. I click my pen to write my name I see it in blue. That’s just how it is, blue. My name is blue; my sister is green, that’s just how it is. Diane is green and Abigail is blue.

She writes me back, in black. I can’t read her note, because black isn’t this note. This note should be purple. Purple aura’s dance across the page and I can’t read it because the colors are to much of a difference. I slide the purple marker to her and my fingers fly, I speak her language. She takes the pen, she speaks mine as well.

With a rainbow of markers spread in the space between us and silence all around us we are sisters. I see color and she has a finger ballet. I can understand her and she me. In the same way that my favorite poem is yellow, her sonnet is in her hands. Color & Silence.