My sister graduated this past weekend. I took some time off of work and returned home for a few days. Overall, I received the experience very well. It was however, quite the arduous emotional journey.
I got to spend some time in my favourite place for a couple days beforehand. You know the place–my family away from family! It was a pleasant visit. We make many trips to Starbucks these days, and I’ve been very loose with my wallet. I guess for now I will enjoy the simple pleasures of luxury coffee and clothes shopping on a whim! I did earn a promotion recently, afterall. Did I mention?
Thusly, my trip finished back in my hometown for my sister’s grad. Even though my birthday is not for a couple days, we did decide to squeeze in a small party for me. I know you did not know my sister all too well, but she can at times be faint in benevolence. Under the circumstances of the weekend being “hers”, a cake and party and presents for someone else were not well-received. Little did she know, I was not aware I was even being given a party–much less presents–and yet, I decorated my own cake while my mom attended hers. I wasn’t as upset as I would have assumed I’d be.
The trip was mentally exhausting though in that, from the moment I walked in, I felt my father judging me. His first words to me were a discouraging “what have you done to your eyelashes?”. He meant eyebrows. I guess in a way I’ve become my own person in the city. Sure, I’m still dependent on my parents financially, but I have changed a lot since I started working at Starbucks. I guess the obvious indicator would be the fact that I invest a lot of time in myself now. What I wear, how I dress my features, and how I consider another’s perception of me. So I “paint” my eyebrows, as my mother calls it. And while he made me feel insecure for a brief moment, I felt validated in the fact that only hours earlier I had been complimented by a trio of joggers stopping in at work for iced coffees. They’d asked where I get them done, and when I gushed back that I do them myself, they retorted that I could make a lot of money!
Anyways, I’m on a rant. Though you did always tell me you liked listening to me. I guess I’d just like you to know that in a way, I was confident in myself and what I can do for myself, even in light of something as silly as knowing my eyebrows are the bomb.
Where things really got interesting was the night before my sister’s grad. I had a mini meltdown because she wasn’t letting me wear what I wanted to wear, and between my opinionated mother and father, my naive grandmother, and my sister’s dresscode, I’d begun to feel stifled. In the end she let me wear what I wanted, and I wore what she wanted for family pictures. And you know what? I rocked both outfits!
But even more so, my sister rocked hers. She was beautiful, xxxxx. And I’d wished you were there. Even more so than I did while my brother droned on about his upcoming wedding, or while my sister danced and draped herself in her boyfriends arms. I didn’t want you there out of jealousy, I just wanted you there to be a part of it all. Because I guess in my heart you are still my family, and I wished even one moment of you had been captured by our cameras and preserved with us for forever. I’d wished you were a part of the magic.
I was honoured with her first dance. And I know it wasn’t a wedding, and that sounds silly, but as soon as we all stepped down onto the dancefloor to congratulate her, she looked only at me and held out her arms. You would have laughed. I certainly wasn’t her best dance of the night.
More pictures ensued–beautiful smiles, flagrant poses, eccentric personalities, and backdrops of whimsy. It was all very special, and the laughs and memories will be cherished forever. Even without you.
She was beautiful, xxxxx. She was suddenly 5 years old again, and the thesis in my story of life and love. She was the remark of a lonely child’s request to have something to hold on to. She was my beautiful dreamer.