30 Days ~ | Life With My Sister

“Don’t get too lonely.”

Her landlord calls. The plumbing is fixed. She packs the two suitcases, the laptop bag, and the chaos. The apartment feels suddenly, terribly large. She stands at the door, hesitates, then turns around.

We talk until 4 AM—about our parents’ divorce, about her broken engagement, about the fear that we are both failing at adulthood. These are not the conversations of casual cohabitation. These are the conversations of two people who have run out of excuses to avoid each other’s truth. 30 days ~ life with my sister

I leave it there for a week.

I find myself fantasizing about Day 31—the glorious solitude, the empty bathroom counter, the silence. I also notice that I am eating better because she cooks. I am sleeping better because the apartment doesn’t feel empty. I hate that I appreciate her. I hate that I will miss the wet towels. “Don’t get too lonely

A strange thing happens on a Tuesday night. I find her crying in the kitchen over a bowl of instant ramen. Not loud sobs—the quiet, exhausted leak of an adult who has had a terrible day at work. I do not ask questions. I simply pour myself a bowl, sit across from her, and eat. She says nothing. I say nothing. But the air changes.

“So,” she says. “The bathroom counter is yours again.” The apartment feels suddenly, terribly large

We do not hug. We are not a hugging family. But she leaves a post-it note on the refrigerator. It says: “You’re not as annoying as I remembered. —Your least favorite sister.”