Dancing in the Rain in Spain

When my sister left at 3 this morning to board her flight for Spain, I thought of how much she means to me (yes, I was awake – the noise of her hairdryer woke me). We argue all the time (mostly because I am obnoxious and seven years younger), but I am constantly reminded of how much I need her.
I’ve become used to her going away; she was at college and then in Spain working. So this time should have felt easier than the last…but it didn’t. 13 hours later, I miss her as I look out my window at the yard we used to play in as kids, the flowers we used to plant and pick, and the garden that needs to be watered and that she can’t help me with this summer :). I get a bit nostalgic as I notice that she didn’t take as many of her things as I expected: the bathroom is practically as full of her stuff as always. And her hair is still in the sink.
But I know this is all part of life. Not the hair in the sink – I still refuse to deal with that – but the traveling, moving, shifting aspect. She’ll be back in August (to stay a few weeks and move yet again for school) and we’ll spend time together fighting and subsequently hugging as always. And this time next year, I’ll be thinking about my own plans to move away and do what I want to do.
I’ve always admired my sister’s ability to do what makes her happy. It always involves hard work (a long distance relationship with a very attractive Spanish fellow and extra classes to fulfill nursing school requirements) and sometimes tears (of frustration toward said extra classes) but that’s what’s always made me so proud of her. And even when she calls me missy or shouts my full three names over the phone or on a webcam (that I still don’t totally understand how to use) I’ll always be satisfyingly jealous of how cute she is when she does it.

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