Every time I leave home, there are two things that I know I will miss: my family and the land. Missing my family is the obvious one. I especially miss my little siblings, Clare and James. Growing up, we were “the little kids”, a trio of troublemakers, covered in mud and smiles most of the time (when we weren’t fighting over what show to watch on PBS or who got the front seat). Raphael was the big brother who was fun, deigning to play with monopoly with us for hours or tag, but when he decided that he was too grown up for all that, we were left to our little group of three. (Note: Raph really isn’t very grown up still, but he refuses to play Monopoly.)
As I leave home, one of the worst things is to say good-bye to Clare and James. I attempted to hug James before heading out the door, and he shouted. “No me tocas!” And wriggled and elbowed his way out of my arms. Typical. Clare on the other hand, the professed hug hater, gave me a long and hard hug. I hate the fact that they are left at home, growing up and doing all the things I used to do with them, without me. One of my greatest joys over break was going to James’ basketball games. The ride to and from the game with Clare in our musty, rattling van is something I’ve always loved. And watching my little brother charge up the court really makes me the proudest I’ve ever been. James happened to get injured in one of the games I went to this break, and I was so mad. I was just so angry that some bug loaf hurt him. I was ready to charge out and kick him in the shins til he cried-and that is not a normal Colleen emotion. James and I are tight, alright?
Everything changes. My little siblings are growing up, my older siblings’ families are expanding, and me? Well, the love for my family is growing, even as the distance between us does, too.