My little monkey

I took a car ride with my siblings the other day. I drove, my older sister sat shot-gun, and my little sister in the back.

We went to pick up my brother from his first day back at school. As soon as he got in, he told us all about his classes. While he was talking I could see from the mirror, my little sister had a strange smile about her face. I tried to focus on what my brother was saying but I took note of her more quiet than normal demeanor.  I should be clear that my sister is not exactly little. I mean she’s going to be twenty years old this year but in my eyes, she’s still my little monkey. With the exception of my silent, smiling sister, the rest of us laughed and chattered the whole car ride, obnoxiously blasting the radio with the windows down. I plopped on my bed once we got home and started scrolling through my news-feed. I had been doing this for quite some time before I noticed that my sister was standing at my side, looming over me.

“What?!?” I exclaimed in an annoyed “you interrupted my personal space” kind of  way.

As I looked more closely at her, I could tell her eyes were glossed over, as if she was about to cry.

“One day, we aren’t going to have this anymore,” she said. “We aren’t going to be able to take care rides together… and that makes me sad, but I want you to know, I love them. and I love you very much.”

A tear ran down her cheek and in my mind I tried to catch it but in reality, I did nothing. I just lay there and I tried to grasp the truth and prudence in her words. I lay there and tried to  recognize my little monkey but she wasn’t so little anymore.

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