My sister moved onto campus this weekend. This is her first time on her own, in her own apartment. She's living with someone she'd never met. She's on campus with a ton of other students, away from the comforts of her home of 18 1/2 years (although, only a 20 minute drive away).
I spend several hours with her on Friday night, her first night. She was anxious but she was strong. It was the first glimpse of vulnerability I saw from this girl since she was eight. She often times went from laughing to a look of panic. Everything was too new and happening so fast. She brought her baby blanket, put it on a shelf in her closet and said, "Just in case".
But she's excited.
Sitting on the floor of her new bedroom, windows open with the laughter and conversation of distant students in the building next door, I looked at my sister while we played games of Slap Jack and War. I physically felt the realization that this little girl, is my adult sister. She has her own place, fulfilling her goals of going to school, learning so, so much.
I felt proud of her. I felt a new love for her. I hoped I would still like the adult sister. I hoped the adult sister would still like me.
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