SISTERS

Today is my baby sister Sarah's 18th birthday.

She was 11 when I left Rockford to begin my freshman year at Eastern in Charleston, IL, which meant that I was away during the time that she transitioned from child to teenager. And now, as she transitions again from teenager into adult, I am missing it again, living in Florida.

Despite not being in her day-to-day life, despite having lived in a different city than her for the past seven years as she has been forming who she is - her character, her beliefs, her interests, her tastes and preferences, her style, her humor, etc. - we still have a special relationship. We always feel comfortable around each other when we're together. We always laugh. We always have our parents and our history and our childhood memories in common.

Beyond that - genetics, it seems, has given us certain characteristics that align unconsciously, across the miles. For example, when I was in college, Sarah and my parents came to visit me in Charleston. Sarah showed up wearing the exact same outfit that I was wearing that day - black shirt with a screen print of the Golden Gate Bridge on it, dark jeans, black belt, black shoes. I didn't even know she owned an outfit like that. Our sense of style (then, at least) just automatically mirrored one another's.

Traditionally, I've found it easier to relate to my other sister Alyssa, who is only two years younger than me, because we grew up together - played on the same volleyball team, sang in the same choirs, participated in the same youth group, and so on. But in our genetic makeups, Sarah and I are more alike. We both tend to be more like my mom - more pragmatic than sentimental (though we do hang on to some important tangible reminders of memories) and more into popular style and fashion (Alyssa is very easy to buy clothes for - she'll happily wear anything you give her and tends to default to looking like a hippie - while Sarah and I are much more particular about what we put on our bodies). Sarah and I tend to gravitate toward the same style of music; we both value a stable sense of community (while the community of Alyssa the Bohemian changes every three to four months). So in these similarities we share, especially now that Sarah is no longer a child, we can relate in new ways that are just as connective as the shared past that Alyssa and I have in common.

But all three of us share commonalities, too. We all are artists instead of scientists (Alyssa and Sarah are more about the performing arts, while I hide behind a pen, but we love all artistic expression). We all have similar personalities - fairly shy and quiet (although Alyssa has been forced to come out of her shell quite a bit in her theater community); dry, sarcastic sense of humor; more comfortable in small groups than in large parties; emotional; insecure; continually self-evaluating; academically successful but not obsessed with grades.

Of course, we all have a lot of differences, too (most notably: I grew up loving Barbies, Sarah grew up loving stuffed animals, and Alyssa grew up loving Light Brights and toy computers, of course). But aside from all the differences and similarities, I can't even express how much I love and admire my sisters. They are two of the most amazing, beautiful women I know, and I believe in them 200 percent.

I often wonder what will become of my relationships with my sisters, since most likely, we will never all three live in the same city again. Will the years of distance and missing out on the milestones - or even just the everyday little occurrences - of each other's lives compound to drive us apart, slowly but surely? Or could it be that our shared family story, mirroring personalities, and almost identical sense of humor will always hold us together in a special way that can't be broken down? Or is there just something deep and unchanging about being sisters that will keep us close no matter what our circumstances are or how our values evolve?

I don't know. I do worry about it. I do know that I will not be present as my baby sister blows out the birthday candles in front of my extended family for the last time; 18 is traditionally the last year we do the family party. I do know that I was not there when the whole family minus me went to Chicago last weekend to see Alyssa in her musical. I do know that I will not share a Thanksgiving meal with all of them this year.

But I do hope that despite all this missing out and being away, our deep-as-blood bond as sisters will not change. I do hope that with all my heart.

THOUGHTS

I've been reading some of my friends' blogs today, and I just love their honesty. They just write from their hearts; they don't try to sound all smart and writer-ish, and in the realness, they're brilliant. Often I wish I could just write without worrying about sounding literary and insightful. Ugh. So with that in mind, this is just going to be a simple, what's-on-my-mind post.

1. Lots of people have quit Relevant lately. This makes me feel both triumphant and sad. Carolyn/Won and Jeff/Elizabeth are moving back to their home states and will be close to their families. This makes me feel jealous.

2. I have no writing or editing assignments right now. I'm trying to get work, but it doesn't seem to get me anywhere, so I get discouraged and don't try very hard, which means I get even less work than I might have if I just tried harder...

3. Amy/David are still up in North Carolina on vacation and will be gone all month. It can't be much of a vacation since they're grieving, but I'm sure they're still thankful to see family and friends and enjoy the mountains. Amy called me today stressed because of all the dealings that must be handled with her dad's business. I miss her.

4. Today is my best friend Sarah's birthday and wedding anniversary. It makes me so sad that we are not in each other's day-to-day lives and that I can't be there to celebrate with her. Philip and I were talking last night about how it's easier to stay connected with people who are physically close to you. There are so many wonderful friends in my life who I've grown apart from just because of physical distance. Being everyday friends with Sarah is what I miss the most.

5. I've been brainstorming about writing a book, but I keep putting off making the outline and really getting started. I'm afraid of starting it and then hating every word and feeling like a failure.

6. I want to visit a writers' group that meets here in Orlando once a month. This month's meeting is this Thursday. There are all kinds of good reasons for doing this - accountability, feedback on my work, new friends that are outside my normal circles... But of course, I feel shy and intimidated and reluctant to go.

7. I'm anxious for Philip and I to finish setting up our home. Priority numero uno is getting a dining room table so we can invite people over without giving them TV trays to eat at. My feelings about this have changed, though, since Amy's dad passed away. It doesn't seem as important, and I feel bad for how much I've allowed our unpacked apartment to bother me.

8. I miss autumn.

9. I have such a wonderful husband. I don't say this to discourage anyone who isn't married; I say it to let everyone know that they don't have to settle - that marrying someone who is serving and affirming and hard working and devoted and kind and intelligent and caring and funny and passionate IS possible. Thank you, Philip, for being more than a dream come true.

OTHERS' PAIN

Lately I have watched as a couple of my friends have gone through times in their lives more painful than I could begin to understand. One friend was anticipating her wedding day, which was only a month away, when her fiance ended the relationship; and last night, another friend of mine who is 29 unexpectedly lost her father.

Confronted with such sadness, I am struck with how insignificant my thin words and tears are to these women who are suffering so much. There is nothing I can do or say to lessen how hurt they feel. There is no magic prayer I can offer, and in these circumstances of distance, there is not even a meal I can cook or a hug I can give. It is a helpless, hopeless, alone feeling to know that they are in so much pain, and there is nothing to do but wait for time to pass and pray in my closet.

PEACH STATE

Philip and I headed up to Georgia this weekend with two objectives in mind: 1. Spend time with Joe Ware and family, and 2. Enjoy the live music of Sufjan Stevens.

Every time I travel, I remember what a restless spirit I have. Leaving Florida behind felt like shedding a swimsuit coverup, leaving it in a crumpled ring on the floor, in order to dive into the pool. Once in Georgia, I drank in the palm-tree-less landscape and eagerly followed the curves of the hillsides with my eyes. I thought of the mountains that lay just north of where we drove and imagined living there, with acres of land sprawling around a home made of wood - no concrete block or stucco - where we could hike and wade in a creek and sit on a deck wrapped in a blanket sipping on hot cocoa and look out over an autumn-ravaged forest.

I thought of the different beauties of each part of the U.S. - the endless green plane of Illinois cornfields stark against the blue horizon; the dry yellowed hills of Northern California set off by the vibrant trees; the reds and oranges and browns and stately cacti of Arizona. And of course, Florida is beautiful in its own way, too, with its tropical brush and lakes and kudzu draping over trees and power lines, looking like ancient leafy dinosaurs. I just get so restless to see other landscapes, other seasons.

In Georgia this time of year, you can feel the imminence of autumn, although it's still warm. A few yellow leaves blow across the roads, and you know the drop of temperature is just around the bend. The residents are ready; Joe's dad Lynn suggested half-jokingly that we start a fire in the fireplace as we watched Hurricane Rita coverage from the comfort of their brown sectional couch.

The Wares' house is built for fall and winter, with its red brick exterior and warm interior colors. When we arrived on Friday night, Rosemary had made us a home-cooked meal of spaghetti casserole and California veggies and salad with poppyseed dressing; Joe had made us peanutbutter pie.

The Wares are football nuts... at least the men anyway. We all went to a Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the Ohio St. game on Saturday and sampled sauces. Then Rosemary and I shopped while the guys finished cheering on the Buckeyes. Back at their home, we sat around the mission-style dining room table like a family and looked at wedding pictures.

Philip and I were with them almost 24 hours when it was time to head up to Athens for the Sufjan show. Sufjan is a musician and a scholar and a goofball, which is a great combination of qualities. With his band dressed like a Fightin' Illini cheerleading squad, he delivered his songs about my home state, which somehow manage to be sad and whimsical and celebratory and haunting and beautiful all at once. Between songs, the band did cheers and shook pom-poms and wiggled spirit-fingers. I smiled a lot, but a couple of the songs left me forgetting to breathe at the end. Half-Handed Cloud, a.k.a. John Ringhofer (friend of David Achata and acquaintance of Philip from his Berkeley trip), opened for him, with his own fair share of quirkiness; Sufjan even came out to play drums for a couple of his Old-Testament-themed tunes. The crowd was comprised, of course, of ridiculous bearded and Mary-Janed hipsters, but at least some of them weren't afraid to dance.

In the morning, we set off to return home. And after being in the car for more than five hours, I felt comforted when I saw a sign for Highway 50.


The squad.


Sujan with the Man of Steel (that's John playing the trumpet).


I-L-L-I-N-O-I-S!


A sleepy Philip after the show.