Memories with Sara

Life changed direction and we grew apart. My memory sucks and looking at pictures is breaking me, so instead I’ll share memories on constant loop in my mind since last night.
Simply put, verbs from when we were young, and from when we were sisters and life stretched out like infinity in front of us.
  • Sharing eyeliner and makeup tips in the locker room after gym class.
  • Crushing on the same boy in high school. I can’t even remember his name or what he looked like.
  • Reconnecting after separately moving halfway across the country, closer than ever before.
  • Standing as a Feminist with a captial ‘F.’ You were the first person my age (early 20’s) to loudly proclaim it, and until then, I didn’t know you could just do that. I thought Gloria Steinem had to induct you or something.
  • Being the only person who would go see Henry Rollins’ spoken word show with me at DC Space in the late ’80s. You didn’t even like him then, you just knew how badly I wanted to go.
  • Overcoming the overturned Big Gulp all over our laps on the drive from Manassas. We decided we were women that put experience over appearance and went anyways.
  • Encouraging me, even after all that and the departure delay it meant that night, me to walk up to Henry after that show and talk to him and get him to sign books. I think it was my first artist moment and remains a favorite.
  • Being pen pals while away you were away at college because Facebook didn’t exist yet. We called too, but didn’t we have great fun in finding/sending silly cards?
  • Ganging up on me, along with my Mom, as we crawled our tortured way through DC and rush hour traffic in a soft-top Jeep Wrangler during a horrible rainstorm. Y’all wouldn’t stop until my crankiness finally snapped and I cussed you both out. When Mom said, “Well, bitch, bitch bitch, no one likes you,” we all started laughing and couldn’t stop for the whole ride home. I finally stopped caring about how late we were and we had such a great time, as literally no other trio could have done.
  • Surviving that one special first diaper change together, resulting in us both in tears on the floor laughing and crying because it wouldn’t STOP.
  • Laughing too loudly, as ever, on a harrowing road trip to Maine in a blizzard at night.
  • Using a cassette case on that trip to scrape snow from the windshield, without gloves.
  • Learning from stupid shit like that on how to be prepared and a bit more grown-up.
  • Loving all life, animal or human of any designation.
  • Sharing that love, ever so gently, with a fuzzy caterpillar found on a tree with the birthday boy and cousins. It made the mountain of gifts at the child’s birthday party invisible, during that magical time.
  • Teaching respect for life, by just as gently returning that caterpillar to where he was found, and explaining why you did so to the children listening so intently.
  • Making memories as you made gifts of homemade cinnamon/sugar butter as a kid’s activity.
  • Spending 3 hours in traffic to show up and take me out for ice cream on my birthday one year, just cuz you loved me and said I deserved spoiling and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
  • Comforting, with love and laughter, as my Mom fought her first battle against cancer.
  • Holding my sons in hospital, shortly after their births, instantly and forever an amazing and devoted aunt from when you first gazed on them.
  • Riding, your whole life, on the backs of horses you loved so much. The love and peace and special smile that would spread across your face when nuzzling was enchanting to watch.
  • Singing, louder than the stereo turned all the way up with the windows down. The song below sprang to mind and sounded so sweet with your voice that I won’t seek a meaningful song or read the lyrics of the one below for deeper meaning.
 I’m so grateful of all the other verbs, nouns, and undefinables that we shared, all those years ago.
Rest easy knowing you’ll never be forgotten and will always be missed and loved. Even with my failing memory, it’s simply not possible, darling one.