We were the best of friends. We shared a bedroom, we shared clothes, we shared a love of books, we shared happy times. Our childhood was spent in the great outdoors, exploring or gardening, or creating general mischeif. Indoors we created crafty works of art, or played in our own world of pretend games. We had the same toys, the same interests, the same life. We argued, we fell out, we fought, but we always made up.
We grew up. She went to university, I had a baby. She travelled, I stayed in my home town. We visited each other, but we grew apart a little, living our separate lives. She had highflying dreams of a wonderful career, and I felt safe plodding along with little planning. But it didnt work out the way she thought it would, and my heart broke for her. Its the end of a dream, but its also a new beginning.
Tomorrow, she comes home. For how long, I dont know, but I will cherish every moment of the time we can spend together. I regret how we grew apart the older we got, but I am thankful for the bond we have. We were the best of friends, and we still are.
This post was written for The Writing Workshop at Sleep is for the Weak. Prompt 1: Write a post celebrating sisterhood.