By Mollie Williamson
My sister and I are not martinis. Shaken, mixed, or stirred, we have not gotten along for the vast majority of our lives. I would rather imagine my sister as a shot of tequila. Someone who evokes a sense of fun, recklessness, and someone you will certainly feel the side effects of later on. As for myself, I would be nothing more than a steaming cup of tea. Soothing at times but with the potential to scold one’s tongue if consumed when too hot. Such is the nature of our personalities. One wild, the other mild.
However, there have been times when we’ve tried to bridge the gap between each other. Certainly there has to be some compromise between tequila and tea? And those early moments of rediscovery seem to go well. Flashes of optimism, which are, perhaps, a bit forced. Still, it is an effort nonetheless. Yet, there always seems to come a moment when the sting of tequila or the heat of tea is too strong for the other and we subside yet again.
It is strange how we are both nothing more than leaf juice in the end. She’s made from some succulent and I am made of dried flower petals. The same, but different. Such is the nature of our personalities. We were both raised by the same parents who instilled the same principles, disciplines, and morals. Yet, we are vastly different in our performance of such lessons.
Much like tequila, my sister shines in the spotlight. Elements of fun with ounces of impulsiveness thrown in the mix. I don’t know if there’s a price she wouldn’t pay to be in the center of everyone’s attention. To be their universe, their gravitational pull. But is there a price I wouldn’t pay for some quiet? For stability? For security? Yet again, we are the same, but different.
Perhaps it is better to think of us working in some kind unison. Not mixing together, but still working with each other. My sister can be the entertainer and I can be the balm for when the fun wears off. We would give someone a complete experience then, a full 365 degree spiral. It would be like passing each other a baton again and again. The handoff would be smooth knowing that it will circle back to us again. But, at the moment, you will see neither of us reaching for the baton. We are both too comfortable in our familiar tastes. We do not want to yield to the other. People should be either fully fun or completely composed, right? After all, do people really drink tea after tequila?
About the Author:
Mollie Williamson (she/her) attended Saint Mary’s College of California double majoring in Art History and Women’s Studies in 2013. She then received her Masters in Women’s Studies from the University of Alabama in 2014. Mollie enjoys spending time with her family, fur babies, and drinking endless cups of tea.