See You Later, Sis

It’s 2009 — third-grade me storms out of the kitchen to eat breakfast in the living room because I can’t stand the sound of my sister chomping down her oatmeal before school.

Flash forward 20 minutes later and we’re sharing a seat on Bus #152, playing Super Mario Bros. on our Nintendo DSs together like nothing ever happened.

Flash forward again to one year from now, where my life will be drastically different. I won’t be throwing fits during breakfast (I hope), I won’t be playing Super Mario Bros. on the school bus and I definitely won’t be sharing half my DNA with the girl down the hall.

And most importantly, the girl down the hall won’t be my sister.

Now, I am 18 and my sister is almost 15 and a half, and the realization of the dwindling amount of days we have left has started to sink in. As I try to drift off to sleep, questions like “Who will surprise me with a Strawberry Acai Lemonade from Starbucks when I’m in a bad mood?” and “Who will respond to every other thing I say with a ‘that’s what she said’ joke?” circle through my brain.

Sure, the thought of abandoning my best friend brings tears to my eyes, but we didn’t always see eye-to-eye — and not just because I’ve always been significantly taller. It all began when my sister’s terrible twos lasted until she was five, followed by my bossy big sister phase.

Don’t get me wrong, siblings are known for bickering and squabbling, but it’s never been a “Keeping Up With the Padons” situation for us. When we argue, it’s usually about who’s wearing whose new Lululemon shorts or about who has to park their car on the street or whose turn it is do the dishes — but at the end of the day, these disagreements have added up.

There’s been days on end where we’ve ignored each other for eating the last frozen pizza in the freezer, and looking back on it, it wasn’t worth it at all. That time could’ve been spent planning dream vacations with our future families and aimlessly wandering around Target, but was instead wasted by slamming doors and throwing around insults like candy at a parade.

Thankfully, as we’ve aged, our relationship is finally rounding out to be one of the best friendships I’ll ever know, full of late night Baskin Robbins runs and sharing headphones on plane rides to Mexico.

After years of telling her which electives to stray away from and providing her Lancer Day outfits from my costume drawer, an unknown and unwanted feeling has started to fill the pit of my stomach. While I’ll continue to baby her until I’m 90 and she is almost 87 and a half, I guess even the toddler who preferred wearing Band-Aids instead of clothes has to grow up some time (sorry for embarrassing you).

I never thought the girl who has a stuffed animal named Tuppy Turtle would ever teach me anything, but as it turns out, being so close with her has taught me more about life than anything else. She’s taught me how to forgive and forget, how to voice my opinion and most importantly, how to focus on the bigger picture. Even through the fights, my sister has always been there for me, through our parents’ divorce to arguments with friends and boyfriends.

Our two and a half year age difference doesn’t mean much to me anymore — it never really did. At the ages of five and almost 2 and a half, we would proudly march into our mom’s work Christmas party wearing matching red dresses. When I was in sixth grade, I got my ears pierced. Two weeks later she was in the same chair at Claire’s getting her ears pierced too. I’ll become a college student in 11 months, and it’s nothing short of weird imagining living without the girl whose been by my side since the day she was born.

As the days pass, I’m mentally preparing to trade sister dates at Brio for Ramen noodles cooked in my dorm room when I start the college chapter of my life. Although the 45-minute drive to KU isn’t long by any means, it’s a lot farther than on the other side of my bedroom wall.

So, to my little sis — let’s make the most of the time we have left together. Let’s not lose our minds when we’re wearing each others’ clothes. Let’s have last minute picnics and let’s drive around blasting Ke$ha. Let’s not fight about the dumb little things that won’t matter tomorrow. Let’s focus on the bigger picture of us growing up together while we still can.

As tears roll down my face as I’m typing this, I realize that mom was right when she told us to appreciate the time we have left together. And just so you know, my dorm in Lawrence will always have room for you, and I hope you’ll miss me more than my closet.