our sibling is your first friend, your best friend, and sometimes your only friend.

She gives you a bigger piece of chocolate because it's your favourite. 

He lets you ride his bike when yours is broken- and keeps you from falling as you go.

You may not always talk, but when you do, it's like you never stopped talking.

The following is fiction, inspired by the year's recent events and the power of connection, even in unlikely situations. I hope you like it.

Mia moved to another city for university last year and the pandemic has kept her there for most of the year. 

I sit in my room, trying to tie my hair the way she always did, a fishtail ponytail that made her look sophisticated, even if she was just cleaning the house. She reminded me of princesses that float in long dresses, even though she's sweeping the floor and wiping the counters while music played on her headphones.

I'm getting frustrated as I do it, wondering how she managed so many difficult things every day. 

When she spent 5 hours a day studying for the final exams, making me sit next to her and ask the worst questions, repeating until she got it right. All of that paid off, though - she got a partial bursary and works at a cafe on the weekends until the lockdown. She'd send me videos of the food the shop served, as well as the long walks she took after her daytime shifts, the sunset shining through the trees and flowers in bloom.

But now she's stuck in her apartment, tutoring students online in between video-calling me because the cafe closed down. She lives in a flat that overlooks the lake on top of a hill, There's even a cat she feeds once a day - a cat she does not even know but loves to snuggle up to her after eating. 

Mia even complains that the noodles and chicken she cooks for dinner aren't as great as Mum's. True, no-one cooks as great she does, but Mia's creamy, cheesy noodles were the best meal I've ever eaten after school, before doing my homework. 

I tell her about doing a class on a laptop, how all my classmates are now little squares on a screen, how some haven't changed their naughty and disruptive ways by making silly sounds in the middle of Maths. I tell her about how much I miss just walking around the shop, now just going in and out quickly, like suspicious spies. 

Mia laughs and reminds me about the time we acted like secret spies on Mum's birthday, acting like we forgot about her birthday while acting aware at the same time. Mum knew we were joking of course, but it was still priceless when we came home with an amazing cake for her.

Sometimes Mia and I would chat while lying in bed, and I'd always fall asleep first, waking up suddenly to see her smiling or leave me a funny video and a goodnight message.

Christmas was sad without her, but we video-called and sent pictures all day of what we got up to. Mia was not totally alone, with the mysterious cat prancing around her balcony and snuggling in her lap when it started to rain. Luckily we both got presents: she bought me some dresses from the local boutique and I bought her a cookbook to keep her from going insane.

Some days we don't talk at all, but it's all good when we do, an hour or more of talking, laughing and making plans when the lockdown ends.

I miss Mia, but she's always with me.