I’d like to write you a story about my sister. Although I’m three years older than her, I can’t remember a time without the white noise of her existence in the background. My first vivid memory is of me going up in an elevator with my grandfather. I’m holding his hand what causes me to stand on the tip of my toes and stretch my arm at full length. There’s a sharp weird smell all around me, which I now recognize as disinfectant. I’m staring anxiously at my reflection in the elevator door. I’m in the hospital, I’m on my way to seeing her for the very first time.

As we grew older it became very clear that we were total opposites. Nonetheless I guided you through forests and rough terrains where I made little trials long ago. We played self-invented games and I made up stories to make you fall asleep. Instead of sticking up for you, you stood up for me. I was a dreamer whereas you knew exactly what was going on.

I always took the first steps. Been there, done that. You tried so hard to pass me by but some things take more time than others. After nineteen years our paths are slowly dividing. I’m going my own way and you are finding yours. As predicted in our childhood those paths are different in many ways.

I may not always understand you and you won’t always understand me, but we know each other better than everyone else. I will always remember you looking at me and telling me; “ no matter what, you’ll always be my sister”. So remember this for me; no matter how far our paths divide, no matter the choices you make, no matter what, if you are lost or just need some company, turn on your GPS and I will always be waiting at your final destination.



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