When we were nine we argued about the color of a beaded bracelet. I was convinced that it was green, you were convinced that it was yellow (in reality it was probably lime-green). We sat on my parents red comforter and bickered for at least three hours. If I recall the conversation went something like this:
Me: It’s green
You: It’s yellow
Me: It’s green!
You: It’s yellow!
Me: IT’S GREEN!
You: IT’S YELLOW!
Me: You’re stupid. Go home!
You: Ugh, you’re stupid. Fine, I’ll go home!
Then you walked home, and we didn’t talk for at least a week.
Fifteen years have passed since that heated argument. And by the way, I’ll always be convinced that you were wrong. It was green, just accept it and move on.
At the risk of sounding like a mushy-emotional-nostalgic-sap, it’s amazing how far we’ve come since we met in third grade:
- We went through puberty side-by-side
- I forced you to go to Homecoming with your future boyfriend of six years
- You made me a rainbow friendship bracelet
- We hated each other on vacations (but we’d make up within a week afterwords)
- We’ve risked death climbing rocks at the beach
- Hiked in the worst footwear possible
- Went cliff jumping
- Stole each others slang/fashion
- Kicked the ass of Harvest Moon
- Drove while crying/dancing/talking for hours
- In short – we’re awesome
Tomorrow morning you’ll drive to the east, in pursuit of your PhD in physics. It’ll be at least a year before we spend hours talking about everything and nothing. Till you barge into my parents house and eat all the good food in the fridge. Till we get bored with the normal trail and end up hiking through the bushes. Till when driving we vow to only take the off roads and end up in uncharted territory.
In the mean time I’ll stay here, and you’ll be hanging with the nerds at the University of Iowa, in Iowa City, on Iowa Street. Gosh, they sure do like to remind you what state you’ll be in don’t they?
I love you Sister, good luck in Iowa. I’ll be sure to send you the most random and epic care package ever.