The tale of becoming an only child


Growing up my bedroom door was 10 feet from my sister, but that distance grew to 2,756,160 feet when she went to college in Virginia. Leaving me an only child, for the first time in my life.

For 16 years we fought over clothes, rode the bus together to school and, ate dinner together almost every night and lived with our best friend. It was truly the end of an era.

I’m not going to lie, it certainly has it perks.

My parents are there for me 24/7, maybe a little too much (but don’t tell them that). They spend the rest of the time spoiling our dog Henry by showering him with treats, walks on the beach and cuddling him to make up for one of their kids moving out.

My mornings are blissful with two closets to choose from and of course taking my sweet time getting ready with no one yelling at me to hurry up.

Regardless of all this, I can’t help but miss my sister. My family are the people who know me inside and out and I couldn’t live without however much I deny it.

Let’s be honest though, the only one who can understand how truly crazy my family is, is my sister. She gets that mom can be overbearing and that dad makes corny jokes and as mad as we both can get at our parents (because that’s what teenagers do) at the end of the day we love them more than words can describe.

With our busy schedules and crazy lives, it’s hard to talk everyday and we can go weeks without talking but it makes me realize how much I love her even if she does drive me crazy. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

It’s fair enough to say that I’m ready for her to come home already.