I finally spoke fully with my sister. I didn't ask for details, didn't receive details, but the waters between us have been filtered - easier to float messages across, I imagine.
Before we spoke she sent me another story. It was called caged. One part got to me especially, because it expressed exactly how I have been the last few days:
Kiwi began talking more directly to Kristine now, “You know what I think!?”
Kristine could not help but smile, “Well I know that you think a lot but what do you think?”
Kiwi smirked and leaned into Kristine whispering, “That in the end we are all just monkeys!” She erupted in to hysterics.
I erupted into hysterics as I read it. And that is very much my thought process.
It whittles my stresses down to size. I am a glorified monkey. There is an altruistic gene inside me telling me to care more about the other monkeys out there facing hunger, rape, land-loss, fear, anger, hatred than about my own problems, so small and insignificant in comparison.
Mmm, perhaps this monkey doesn't earn impeccable marks on her hieroglyph'ed tree-sheet, but she knew how to write it and did so eating her bananas with Nutella; some monkeys out there don't have the bananas at all.
(Well, common ancestry with an ape, really, but it's a quantum conceptual and metaphoric leap rather than an expression of scientific fact. After all, I don't actually eat bananas with Nutella.)