This is my sister.

In this photo, shot three days ago, my sister is seven months pregnant.

Isn’t she gorgeous?

I spent the weekend with my sister and her partner, who, thank the gods of sibling protection, is wonderful. This is not something I take lightly, as there have been, in the past, some unsavory people I wanted to punch directly in the nuts.

Luckily, I really, really dig this guy.

I met my sister when I was seven and she was two-and-a-half. We both were adopted from Korea, but we did not come from the same womb. Otherwise, we’re like most sisters. We shared a home, a family, we fought over stupid stuff, we annoyed each other, we comforted each other and we definitely have each other’s back.

This is also not something I take lightly.

When we brought my sister home from the airport, she slept for two straight days. When she woke up, she immediately demanded food.

Ah, I thought. I like her.

My sister came from Korea with remnants of a language, bits of song that my mother scrambled to capture on cassette tape, and memories that are for her alone.

Our lives together as sisters read like a map in progress. We continue to get to know each other, to find each other out.

My sister’s first pregnancy happened in a blur. My nephew was born and we realized we’d only gotten one photo of my sister while pregnant. ONE.

Three days ago, I took over 450 photos of my sister, pregnant, and stunningly beautiful.

My sister.

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