Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Everything hurts more when you move slowly

Maybe it's the glass of wine I'm sipping, or the reminiscing of summer escapes that is making me sentimental right now, but more than likely it has to do with a goodbye I will be saying in 2 very short days. On Thursday, my sister is packing up and moving overseas to the UK where she will pretend to work while instead she will indulge in probably the greatest European adventure of her life. Constant preparation makes this week feel like a continuation of the holidays--well, something is different in the air, that is for sure. It is, however, a reality that has yet to hit me. "Can you cover my shift for me so I can take out my sister? She's moving on January 7th for 7 months!" "Of course I'm gonna miss her." I find myself talking about it more than I find myself believing it. 7 months of separation after 22 years of inseparable-ness. Let's be honest, 6 months, as the last one I will spend with her...using her for free accommodations and easy access to bordering paradises. Am I going to miss her? Anyone who knows us knows the answer. Am I jealous of her? Let's just say expedia.ca has been my homepage for the past few days. Am I nervous for her? Probably a lot less than she is for herself...but that's because I'm too happy for her to let any other emotion get in the way. Although the iminent departure date may cause her to let her fear get the best of her, I hope that behind the anxiety she is remembering that this will be an experience she'll never forget, where she will meet people she will always remember, and make memories that will last forever in her mind (probably hazy, though, from all the wine she will ingest prior to making the majority of these memories)

So, tonight I raise my rare glass of week-day red to my sister. My best friend. My twin soul. The girl who shares my smile, shares my eyes, shares my hobbies and most of my paranoia-s. Here is to all the mornings spent in comfortable silence, with a giant bowl of cereal and toasted Russian. Here is to the workouts--the good ones, the bad ones, the frustrating ones, the painful ones, and to the ones we skip. Here is  to the lazy nights spent in, downloading music, making drinks, writing essays (most of the time simultaneously), watching movies, watching TV (and sleeping in front of it) Here is to the messy nights out together--Muzik booths, birthday buses, King One West suites and My Apartments. And here's to the messy nights out apart where shared text messages never kept us too far away from each other. Here's to the nights when I came home too obliterated to lock the bathroom door, or hold my own hair back, or to laugh at myself alone. Here's to the nights when she came home too messy to undress, or stay dressed, or with newspaper stains on her face. Here's to all my stupid comments--my mis-pronunciations, my mis-understandings, that gave one too many opportunities for me to be the punch line of several jokes. Here's to teasing Mom (it won't be funny anymore when I have to laugh at her alone) Here's two our identical warddrobes (a result of our identical presents). Here's to our identical [boy] hair cuts. Here's to our travels--from Wasaga beach to the Eiffel Tower. Here's to the best five weeks of my life spent with the only person I'd ever be able to tolerate for that amount of time in a foreign country. Here is to the girl who is an expert at stopping my tears and wiping my cheeks, at boosting my self-esteem when I've lost it, at motivating me when I'm slacking, at making any disappointment I may ever have in myself disappear, at turning any bad day around by just being there, without even having to say anything at all. Here is to the best sister I could have ever been blessed with. Who I will miss more than I know just yet. This trip is for you Mel. After everything, I can't think of any who deserves it more than you.  Use it wisely. Live it up. Carpe diem. And most importantly, think tabula rasa.

And don't worry about the weather, your heart will keep you warm until the European sun arrives and I join you to spend another summer beneath it with you.