Sunday came falling down too fast, crashing in upon me like Niagara Falls; a splash of cold water and ice that had the weight of large rocks. I could have prepared myself to be prepared for a month and it wouldn't have made a difference. Because no matter how prepared I was, it wasn't going to change how I felt.
Standing in the garage in my jeans and T-shirt, I looked out into the night. My sisters voices played back to me in my head, calling their goodbyes, telling me to take care of things while they were away, bestowing on me that weight of responsibility. Their faces, desperately trying to smile, eyes brimming with tears...
I try to tell myself that this is just like every time before. Things will work out. I'll see them soon. It's not that bad. I should be used to this. They're only two hours away... But whether they're twelve hours, or two, it doesn't make it any easier. They're still gone. They're still living in a world half of me longs to enter, while the other half seems to be pulling back, holding home closer. But all the same, a world that I am not in. Since I was born, I had always been in their world... but now, things have changed.
I have to admit, I was very tempted to just jump into the trunk, and go along with them. Plunge into that world... It seemed, as I was sitting on the bumper of our van watching them pull away, that the part of me loving to be home was being outweighed one by a thousand.
I tried to look brave as they beeped and waved for one last time. The headlights of the car illuminated our yard with their artificial light as they swept over it. The trees looked ghostly, and the crickets sang. I wondered how and why they were singing tonight.
Then they rolled down the driveway, and were gone . I stood waving, deciding that we were not made to say goodbye. We were not made to have to let go. All the same, I did. I let go, while my love clung desperately on. It seemed as if it were pulling me along with their rolling tires, down the end of our street. My feet desired to follow.
And then my aloneness crept in. The shadows fell again, as their lights disappeared, blanketing the night in it's darkness. I hugged my arms about me, and felt the sharp cold air envelope me.

I could almost picture this line... a long thick white one. On one side was my future, and the other my past. Right now, I was standing directly on top that line, looking into the future. And I knew I was in between. Sometimes, I find myself looking into the past. Re-living memories, and wishing, part of me, that I could have them back again. Memories of feelings, memories of moments... memories of days... of nights... there were also memories of goodbyes. But those I would not wish back.

I wish they never had to drive away....I wish that those days when all we did was play and laugh hadn't gone so fast... or that then, I would have known the full meaning and blessing of them. But would it have ruined them if I had known? Most probably. Half the things I do I wouldn't have been able to do if I had known what they would turn out to be. Of where they would lead me. Of how many steps there were to take after that one. And yet, looking back on them, it's a grace and blessing to have lived it. Because everything we live helps create who we are. So please ...live with truth.

I pondered all of this, and felt the feeling familiar. I can't say I welcomed it as anything but a stranger, because our meetings have not made us friendlier. But it was familiar all the same, even if far larger than ever before.
The night was similar to me. The air was cold... too cold to be called summer, but it wasn't officially autumn yet. Almost cold enough to cloud my breath before me, but not quite. The leaves on the trees could not have been called 'changed' or even that they were 'changing'. But they no longer held the life and depth of summer. I felt like them. A faded picture of the past, but not to the point of beginning a new bright and colorful future. Even my shadow that I cast upon the floor from the dim garage light, looked faded.

Would that be me, in a year or two? Would I pull out, and leave home? Would my sister stand here, and wish she were with me? Would she be standing on the almost visible white line? Would I be able to leave her, knowing the loneliness she would feel? It hurt to imagine, and I was grateful, for now, that I did not have to make that choice.
My eyes were dry, but my heart was weeping. Why was change always so painful for me? Why did I regret leaving the past when the future holds so much beauty? I'm still searching for the answer...
Raising my eyes to the sky, I caught a glimpse of a little star. It was all alone at first, winking in and out of shining. But the longer I looked, the more I saw. There was something comforting in that fact. I don't know why. Maybe I imagined myself as that lone star for a moment. And when the others appeared, I felt I was in good company. Maybe they had crossed that brink, and stood waiting for me. Maybe one day, from the other side, I would look back.
The cold and damp from the pavement of the garage floor sunk into my socks, and made me shiver. I turned back and saw a little line of light shining from underneath the kitchen door. It was like home, beckoning to me. I was no longer looking out into the night: the shadows of the future. But to the warmth of the present... of being home.