Saturday, March 8, 2008
I haven't seen anyone in my family for five months. We talk every few days, over a staticky and disjointed internet phone line, or via Google chat, meaning the content of a ten-minute conversation can take up to an hour. On Christmas we used the webcam, and we saw everyone all together and felt our distance from them even more strongly. The cheerful smiles we painted on our faces were pained and determined. I grinned and laughed, but wanted to cry. Every day I wish I had my sisters and mom with me. Sometimes I'll be sitting at breakfast and I'll burst into tears in the restaurant, leaving BG struggling to wonder where that came from.
The five of us always had an awesome relationship, but I never knew how much I depend on their support. I never realized how they understand me like nobody else; they can cheer me up like nobody else, and when I understand that I am acting totally crazy, they sympathize.
I wish they were here to help me braid my hair now that it's long enough. I wish they were here so we could laugh in unison at the exact same tempo and rhythm until we cry and take goofy self-portrait photos like we always do. I wish they were here to go shopping in the markets, to share the weird street snacks, to pose for crazy pictures, to talk. I wish somebody would borrow my mascara. I wish that they could see all of the amazing things that we've seen because they deserve to be astounded too.
J, K, C: Remember when Mom used to yell at us to not fight when we were little because we were all that we had and we were going to have each other forever? And we thought it was a threat? I realize now that it was a promise.