I said goodbye to my sister a week ago. Not goodbye forever, just goodbye for now.
I remember when I left home and moved to Colorado. I recall looking at my room and my bathroom and the kitchen and knowing that the next time I returned, it would be a little different. The thing with Sara moving is that she totally is ready. She's a mom and a wife and she needs to be away from 'home' and build one of her own.
It was very difficult helping her clean and pack and be in the house that I spent a million weekends in, eating, watching movies, dyeing hair, and sitting in my designated blue chair thinking about the guy I was dating and wondering what he was doing.
The first time I went to that house, I was scared to death. It was out in the middle of no where and down a long dirt road. It was very cute and neat, not like a boy lived there at all. It was a few days before my sister was to get married. She had it decorated a little and I remember it all seemed very grown-up. I mean, she was about to be a wife and have a mortgage and I was living in a condo in CO with 3 other girls and going out every Thursday night. The first time she was 'wife' in that house was beautiful. Sara is younger than me and I had always seen her as the little girl that I used to make eat mud or moon dad. It was Christmas time and she had the house decorated very festive in holiday décor. She feel asleep on the couch and I remember looking at her and thinking, 'wow, she's a wife...and that's my little sister'. After I moved back, I spent pretty much every weekend there. It was a ritual to drive to Hot Springs on Friday night and crash with her and Jason. I slept on the couch a billion times. It was always cold in that house, the tempeture not the atmosphere, and it smelled like gardenia.
Being in the house for the last time was bittersweet. I knew that this move would be great for Sara and she actually handled leaving the house better than me. I didn't let it show, but as I was touching up the baseboards with paint, I was crying a little thinking about how someone else would build memories there and I would never be in this house again and it be my little sister's home. As we drove down the bumpy dirt road, I felt peace. I knew that Sara was going home.
I remember when I left home and moved to Colorado. I recall looking at my room and my bathroom and the kitchen and knowing that the next time I returned, it would be a little different. The thing with Sara moving is that she totally is ready. She's a mom and a wife and she needs to be away from 'home' and build one of her own.
It was very difficult helping her clean and pack and be in the house that I spent a million weekends in, eating, watching movies, dyeing hair, and sitting in my designated blue chair thinking about the guy I was dating and wondering what he was doing.
The first time I went to that house, I was scared to death. It was out in the middle of no where and down a long dirt road. It was very cute and neat, not like a boy lived there at all. It was a few days before my sister was to get married. She had it decorated a little and I remember it all seemed very grown-up. I mean, she was about to be a wife and have a mortgage and I was living in a condo in CO with 3 other girls and going out every Thursday night. The first time she was 'wife' in that house was beautiful. Sara is younger than me and I had always seen her as the little girl that I used to make eat mud or moon dad. It was Christmas time and she had the house decorated very festive in holiday décor. She feel asleep on the couch and I remember looking at her and thinking, 'wow, she's a wife...and that's my little sister'. After I moved back, I spent pretty much every weekend there. It was a ritual to drive to Hot Springs on Friday night and crash with her and Jason. I slept on the couch a billion times. It was always cold in that house, the tempeture not the atmosphere, and it smelled like gardenia.
Being in the house for the last time was bittersweet. I knew that this move would be great for Sara and she actually handled leaving the house better than me. I didn't let it show, but as I was touching up the baseboards with paint, I was crying a little thinking about how someone else would build memories there and I would never be in this house again and it be my little sister's home. As we drove down the bumpy dirt road, I felt peace. I knew that Sara was going home.
posted by Amanda at 3:32 PM
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