So let her reach the high shelf. Let her open the jar. Let her carry the groceries.

When searching for these stories, the following plotlines are most prevalent:

It started subtly. When Mia was twelve and I was fourteen, she caught up to my height over a single summer. I remember standing back-to-back in the kitchen while Mom measured us with a pencil mark on the doorframe. My mark was at 5’4”. Hers was a full inch higher.

“Alex,” she said softly, “remember when I was seven and you chased away that stray dog that followed me home from the bus stop? You were so scared. Your hands were shaking. But you stood in front of me anyway.”

Derek blinked, looked up at her shoulders, then at me, then moved without another word.