I spent yesterday afternoon at my youngest sister's apartment in Manhattan.
For four hours we boxed and taped up her New York City life, cleaning out closets and pantries, and got her ready for what comes next.
Because on Wednesday she leaves New York for a long and fun vacation, after which she will be unpacking her boxes in Cleveland, Ohio, where she and her husband move in July. A few weeks later she will don her scrubs, and start her first year of dental school, fulfilling a dream of hers more than ten years in the making.
And I'm so proud of her.
And also a little sad.
Because for the best part of seven years, we have lived in New York together, and this week, that comes to an end.
She was a junior in high school when I moved to Manhattan for law school, and the big city seemed just a little smaller, and a whole lot less scary, because she was in it too. She spent weekends in my various apartments, we shopped together, and watched lots of football games together. She introduced me to David right here in New York, and when we got engaged late one night, the rest of my family may have been far away, but she was there to celebrate in person. When I moved into a house with no kitchen and covered in construction dust, she came right over to help unpack my books, set up my kitchen, and make my new house feel more like home.
So today. Today I'm thinking about the past seven years, and I'm thinking about all the fun, excitement and good things ahead for her. This move is good and right and exactly what's best, I just can't help but wish it wasn't so far away.
Cleveland doesn't know how lucky it is.
Safe travels, Sister L.
New York, and I, will miss you.