My sister pours her heart out into her phone. It is night time, and our lines of conversation stretch through space and time like the tin cans and string of the past. I always dreamed of this day, in fact, I was about her age when I used to dream about it. I couldn’t wait to teach her. About growing up and boys and first dates and driving and so on. Even now, as a woman, I think forward to the day we share a bottle of wine, go on a trip, or discuss our jobs and spouses together.

I never had an older sister, or really an older female presence in my life. I stumbled through it all; clumsily, disgustingly, and at times hysterical. But I made it. Growing up is hard, especially without a compass. I’m not convinced we ever grow up. We just get better at faking it.

Now that my beautiful little sister is on the brink of this stage in her life that I once dreamed about, I wonder if I can actually help. Maybe I won’t know what to say or when to say it. Having lived it, I know how lonely it can be. She’s 15. She’s brilliant and a thinker. She’s mature and powerful. What if I can’t stop her tears? What if I don’t even know the answers myself?

How do I tell her she’s good enough and she shouldn’t be so hard on herself? How do I remind her of her boundless beauty, her bright and creative mind, and her unlimited potential? How do I warn her that people will try to break her without teaching her to be afraid of living? How do I tell her she’s never truly alone?

I cannot text a hug or type a smile. I cannot sit with her on the night she’ll want to forget.

Is love, in its purest and most unfiltered capacity, the universal certainty to embrace? Is my love for her more powerful and long-lasting than any obstacle she will likely face?

I don’t know. What I do know is love speaks when I lack the words. Love exists beyond an LED iPhone screen. I hope my love for Grace can shield, equip, or even comfort her when necessary. And on days when it cannot, I hope she always knows it’s there.