It was late fall, early sunset, listening to "Lonely Eyes" as the country music beat accompanied my feet restless for a destination. Thought of my sister, heard her laugh, saw her mischievous smile, then clenched my fists tight to try to stop the tears. I missed her. Thousands of miles and time's invisible barrier now separated us. It wasn't fair. In that moment I understood why my room was still just a room, why the driveway wasn't friendly, why the back deck was just a place to sit, and why the memories of each life remained in carefully sealed boxes. I was waiting. I was waiting for my sister to come home, but she had found a home. I was waiting to go back home, but I never would be able to. I was still the teenager trying to comprehend how her world could fall apart in days and never quite come back together again. My life had rushed on ahead of me; now I wished I had lived those moments just a little bigger, taken more heart snapshots, been grateful for each breath instead of waiting for something to change.
15 years 11 months today. Will I ever stop sitting by the window, nose pressed against the glass, waiting for Daddy to come home?
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