This is the story of one younger sister growing up in the shadow of her larger-than-life older sister and, ultimately, learning how to speak in her own voice, on her own terms.
Dina—that’s what I called her then—was nearly seven years old, and I was three. We sat facing each other across a couple of feet of dirt, surrounded by crunchy fall leaves. The weather had turned crisp as autumn inched its way toward winter, and Mom had dressed us in turtlenecks—red and pink,…
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