9-2-6-1-7

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It’s 1999, I’m ten years old,

Emily is almost eight.

A family trip to somewhere fun,

Neither one of us could wait.

 

The tv wedged between the seats

And games of “Not-touching-you!”

Eye spy, slug bug, VHS tapes

And so the hours flew.

 

A passing truck, we pumped our fists,

And heard the engine revvin’.

It sped ahead and the license read,

“9-2-6-1-7.”

 

A memory challenge, “Bet you can’t-” “Bet I can-”

“Remember those 5 numbers.”

She was bound and determined,

To prove she could do it after one long car ride slumber.

 

It’s 2015, I’m twenty-five,

Sixteen years post-bet.

Emily now is twenty-three

And still she won’t forget:

 

“Nine-two-six, one and seven.”

She smiles every time.

And so do I for now I know to

Bet against her is a crime.

 

Creative, driven, Miss Independent

Cookie baking skills from heaven.

She can, and she will, do anything.

9-2-6-1-7.

 

Girl Power walking, she’s got it all.

Her poise you can’t disturb.

Brains, beauty, humor, love

And a wicked overhead serve.

 

I’m 6-foot 2, she’s about 5-9,

But still I look up to her.

We’ve both grown up but never apart.

I’m lucky to be her brother.

 

Tonight I sit, half a world away,

Reminiscing, not forgettin,

Excited to see what’s next for the girl behind

9-2-6-1-7.



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