It was a lovely afternoon, so my younger sister and I went on a long walk. The street was lined in perfect little houses with perfect lawns, and flower beds full of purple daisies and red poppies. The road ended in a dirt path leisurely winding it's way through the woods of evergreen trees. My sister and I don't get much of a chance to really talk beyond me telling her to pick up her things, and she asking if she can pick out my lip-color in the morning, but as we made our way up the road, amid our teasing and laughing and playful shoving, I managed to get a peek into who this girl is and who she's becoming. She's eight years younger than me, and taller by at least two inches and I alternately make the mistakes of thinking she's 14, and treating her like she's 5. But on this afternoon I realized that she's a very mature eleven year old with theories and convictions and a heck of a lot of intelligence, and she's not just my little sister, but she can be a really good friend.