Ever since I was old enough to talk, my sister Kelsey and I have had a special bond. Although she is 6 years older than me, we’ve always had our own language and banter, and often we would receive comments along the lines of “what are you two even talking about.” It’s not that we were exclusive towards others, but we just couldn’t help it. Everything around us reminded us of some sort of inside joke we had. And, although I fought with my brother Donald all the time (who is the same age as my sister), I can rarely ever remember Kelsey and I not getting along. She was the one that helped me pick out my outfit for my first sixth-grade dance, the one that supervised my super cool middle school pool parties, and the one who I could go to with whatever.

So, when she left to attend college, I felt like I was losing my best friend. And again, when my parents got divorced and she lived in New York with my dad while I lived in North Carolina with my mom, I felt a presence missing every time I turned on the TV and some sort of trashy TV was on, whether it be one of the Real Housewives series or Millionaire Matchmaker. Of course, we still texted all the time, sending countless Instagram posts that reminded us of each other, or we just knew would make the other one laugh.

We would talk on the phone when one of us had a long drive to make, and she would tell me the latest gossip with every single detail, even though I would barely know the people who were involved. The important part of those phone calls was never who the stories were about, but who was on the other end of the line. But still, when I scrolled through dresses for prom or homecoming, the joy of having her right next to me helping me decide which dress would utterly woo my date was no longer present. The process of screenshotting and listening to the sound of each iMessage going through was not nearly as satisfying as hearing her say in real life, “that’s the one.”

Because of this distance, we would soak in the time we did have with each other. Which I should mention, was quite often. It wasn’t like our parents held us captive in our respective towers. Although my family was no longer a nuclear one, we were still able to celebrate most holidays together, and my parents always made an extra effort to spend time with their children, so I rarely ever went more than a month or two without seeing my sister. And, although I know that’s not long, it felt like years. So, whenever we were together, we took full advantage of it.

On Thanksgiving, we teamed up to make the best mashed sweet potatoes you’ve ever had, and our green bean casserole was one for the ages. And, of course, following the baking was a photo shoot of us with our dishes. Two master chefs beaming at their latest creation, albeit most of it was out of a can.

Anyway, we made the most of our time together, laughing at every step. So, when I decided to spend this summer in New York before heading off to the best school in the world, we were both ecstatic. Three months of marathons of Bride’s Day Friday on TLC (although now it’s on Saturday, which does not have nearly the same ring to it), yelling at the TV while we watch Rachel (this year’s Bachelorette) make the wrong decision, going into pet stores claiming we were interested in buying a corgi just so we could spend forty minutes playing with her (we named her Susan for the day, after Susan B. Anthony by the way), and third and fourth wheeling to my brother and his girlfriend, who, amazingly, are still in the honeymoon phase after almost two years. She even inspired my first Odyssey article, as she was the one who dragged me with her to Pure Barre class (which we are attending again tomorrow morning in case you were wondering).

All in all, I am going to miss her so much these next few months. I’m going to miss the way I would walk into her room and she would be jamming to the music pumping through her headphones. The way we would go on late night hunts for lactose-free ice cream (not as easy as it sounds). The sister to sister chats we would have at 3 a.m. because we are both night owls. The feeling of excitement as I sat on her bed and helped her pick out an outfit for her date that night, knowing I would get a full update later as we sat on the couch eating bean dip (one of our favorites).

Mostly, I will miss the way we throw embarrassment out the window when we are together. We have skipped through the aisles of Costco, chanting “MOTZ STICKS” because of how badly we needed mozzarella sticks at my graduation party, sang along with songs a little too loudly in restaurants, and danced like complete idiots whenever we are waiting in a line (literally we do it all the time).

My sister is also the main victim of all my jokes, and she takes each one with grace and humility (well, and an occasional middle finger). When I scrutinize her Snap Chat stories (lovingly of course), or joke about the time that she thought Saddleback riding was just riding a saddle in the ocean, or claim to be the smarter child just because my ACT score is a little higher, she handles it like a champ. She just laughs her distinct, bubbly laugh or comes back with a better comeback (which is rare) or just pretends to walk out of the room in anger. Basically, my sister gets me. We have the same sense of humor, and, when I really look at who my sister and I are, we even share so many of the same anxieties, dreams, hopes, and fears.

So, as I reflect on my past summer with her, I think about all these things that I will miss. I wonder who will understand that although I sound completely serious, I am being sarcastic. Who will get all my weird Spongebob references? Who will I binge watch Say Yes to the Dress with over pizza and Italian ices? Who will I drag to concerts even when they don’t know the band? Who will I talk to at 3 a.m. about the cryptic text I got from that boy I like? This summer, I have grown accustomed to having my best friend by my side, and I have enjoyed most every second of it. I even enjoyed, no, almost waited, for her to text me anywhere from 5 p.m. to 1 a.m., asking if I would pick her up at the train station. And I would, every time, with a smile on my face and our most recent favorite song (or the Jonas Brothers’ “Burnin’ Up”) playing in my car. Although I might be a brunette, 5’9, and a sarcastic book work, and she is a redhead, 5’2, and an actress and singer, she has been my best friend for the past 18 years, and I could never ask for a better partner in crime.

So, even though I know I will miss her like crazy, and I have all of these unanswered questions, one thing is certain: distance doesn’t mean I lose my best friend. I still fully expect to receive Instagram messages of memes and pictures of cute guys holding puppies, and I know she still expects some sort of sarcastic comment every time she posts a Snap Chat story or Instagram post (again, with love of course). And, Kelsey, if you are reading this, which you better be because I just wrote a whole freaking article for you, just know: you are the Ke$ha to my Pitbull, the Paco to my Beanie, the Gil Faizon to my George St. Geegland (we love John Mulaney), the Tina to my Louise (and Bob’s Burgers), and, most importantly, always remember, I love you, sis.