For months, I’d been looking forward to my sister picking me up from high school, like she used to when I was in elementary school and she was in high school. I’d always thought eventually I’d be like her when she was 16, doing her makeup every morning and painting for her art classes. I remember how focused she got on art projects. I always wanted to be talented like her.
When she texted me and told me she was flying in that week and that she’d be here for a couple days and that she wanted to see me, my eyes burned with tears at the thought of being with her again and listening to her voice. Just to be in a car with her while she drives, calmly answering my questions and filling in the holes in the stories I tell. When I saw our grandma Terri’s car parked outside, I felt excitement I hadn’t felt since my trip to Portland, when I first saw her in the airport.
Of course, once I got in the car, we both started crying and hugging. As every little sister does, I take note of her outfit and the jewelry that she’s wearing, thinking of a way to recreate it. Eventually, she pulls out of the parking lot, beginning our beautiful evening together.
As expected, she had some leftover food to offer me, and I ate as she told me how it feels to be back home. I listened quietly, allowing myself to step into her shoes. She still loves Frederick but also fears seeing a familiar face from high school and what seeing our younger cousin felt like, especially since she’s older now. She’s bigger, and holding her in your arms hurts after a while.
The conversation shifts between my life and hers until we reach the cutest Ziggie’s coffee shop in downtown Longmont, across from Crackpots. We both share deep love and sentiment for Main Street and the small intimacy of it, and this is where she used to come to do her homework. We walk in and pick a small table with two chairs next to the bathrooms; she orders for me like she always does. The moment we sit down, it’s like summer: we talk and laugh together effortlessly. Talking to her doesn’t ever feel like work, and it’s never awkward. The more we talk, the more I realize how similar we are. We laugh the same, and our voices rise and fall at the same time. We finish each other’s thoughts and sentences. In so many of these ways, I and my sister are the same and also the opposite.
After what felt like 10 minutes, we both realized our time together was coming to an end, with her wanting to make a quick visit to our Nana before her flight home and me needing to finish my leftover work from school. That was always the best part about being with her; she creates a whole other world where I’m safe and comfortable.
We were the only two in the room, and we can laugh as loud as we want without feeling self-conscious. The drive home felt short until we had to say goodbye. We promise we’ll call each other every day and never go more than 3 days without at least texting, a promise we both struggle to keep at times. I slowly walked up my driveway and began to count the days until I’d see her again.
