How many nights of my life have you gently knocked on my door with a plate of nachos, a glass of coke, or some bag of chips, ready to settle down into my comforters and let me cry because you knew there was more to be answered than “How was your day”?

How many nights have you stayed steady in the dizziness of my contemplations?

How many nights have you sucked the sourness of frustration from my heart like you suck vinegar out of chips?

How many nights have I thrown my words to the winds of your wisdom hoping they would catch truth and not be offended by it?

How many nights has your wisdom wind smoothed the rough patches of my heart, eroding doubt, anger, bitterness, or other vile, unrepentant emotions?

How many nights have I felt like too much and you have responded, “Me, too”?

As many nights as you have been my sister.

How many nights do I get to talk to you?

As many nights as we knock on each others’ doors with plates of nachos, glasses of coke, or bags of salt and vinegar chips.