I balance myself there, wobbling around on the step stool like a sea lion balancing a ball on his nose. I reach my arm out so far it feels like it’s going to come out of the socket.

Sweat beads on my forehead until it slides off my nose and seeps into the floorboards. I took my shirt off but still felt the heat beaming me from the window.

“Hey, make sure to get the tops of the window sills,” my sister calls out to me from outside of the room. I couldn’t even be upset about the situation that I was in because I was the only one who could reach the top of the wall.

I glide my brush across the wall like Michelangelo to the Sistine Chapel, careful with every stroke not to touch the ceiling.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, by the time I knew it, there was no blue left in the sky. The clock knew I wanted to get out of there but he continued to tick.

I contemplated abandoning my task hundreds of times but knew that the second I would, my sister would be devastated, so I persevered and continued to paint.

Helping my sister move into her new house was tedious and the painting made my motivation drop for the day, but I know that if it wasn’t for me being there to help her, she would’ve been painting that room for the rest of the night.