the littlest big things you don’t know about me:
- My youngest sister passed away when I was 10. She was 4 years old and died of brain cancer.
- My parents divorced shortly after.
- I lie all the time and say that I only have 2 brothers and a sister, although I really had 2 sisters. It still feels like a lie 13 years later.
- I miss her a lot, and still talk to her every once in a while.
- I believe in heaven and angels, if only for her.
- When I was younger I used to talk to her nightly, and pretended she was in guardian angel school, training to be someone else’s guardian angel.
- I have trouble imaging what it would have been like to have her when we were being shuttled between my parent’s houses in the midst of the divorce. I can’t decide if it would have been better or worse.
- We used to write a note, tie it to balloons and let it go every year on her birthday and the anniversary of her death. Some years were harder than others.
- I can’t imagine what my parent’s must have felt. They must have wanted to die themselves.
- I still get envious when I hear my friends talk about younger siblings that would be the same age as her. They have no idea how much it stings.
- She would have turned 19 years old last month.
I GOT THE EFFING JOB.
This is seriously dream job status. Remember when I wrote the cover letter? Turns out it was a keeper. Could you picture me waiting in agony to find out if I got it? Turns out it was worth it.
Now, if only I didn’t have to serve my 30 days notice for my current job and I would be set. But, alas, I am a better person than that, so I show up all day and pretend to work.
26 days and counting.
Last night, there must have been something in the water. I glided through the day, barely remembering that it had started out so oddly.
I was not the only one that awoke disturbed from dreaming. Fish wrote about hers here, stirring up thoughts of recounting my own dream from last night. If Fish and I drank the same water, which we don’t (I think), I would have credited both our sleeping cinemas to that.
I dreamt of my ex, but he was in my current life. I was in my current apartment, but my ex was stuck in the late 90s. He was the same as he was then. Just as skinny as in high school, decked out in too-baggy Nautica Jeans and Polo shirts. They hung on him just like they did then. And his hair was short and conjured visions of the eleventh grade. I am glad I dream of him then, because that was the him I fell in love with.
In a weird way, I think I will give myself credit for remembering him at his best.
Looking back with fondness and warm, nostalgic feelings must be a sign of moving on. Points for me (and for the high school version of him).