Dear Big Sister,
As I begin to write this, I can't help but feel as though I'm writing a yearbook message to a best friend. Because in many ways, this is just like a yearbook message, and you are my best friend.
A little backstory here: my sister is twenty-two months my senior, making us one year apart in school. This always seemed to work in my favor; she paved the way for all the privileges I seamlessly enjoy including curfew, parties, academic expectations, and even smaller benefits like the age at which I got my first pair of Uggs (and yes, my first pair were the tall chestnut ones that every other girl wore). I didn't have to take the bus to school junior year because she drove me every day despite having to wake up at 7AM as opposed to 9AM, when her first class began. My older sister has always made life more easy, more fun, and more full.
Having had impeccable science and math grades, coupled with a drive to create a career out of her college education, she applied exclusively to pharmacy programs throughout the Northeast (side note: she was accepted into every single program). In addition, her innate parsimoniousness led her to choose the school which awarded her the most merit scholarship. And so, she is now a rising sophomore in St. John's University's six-year pharmacy program in Jamaica, New York—a short 10 minute drive from our home. Now here's the catch: she chose to live at home and commute to school. I, however, did not.
Admittedly, this is such a cliché, but I really am the first bird to leave the nest of our parent's home. And while it's so exciting, it's also so depressing because it obviously entails leaving behind my built-in bestie since birth. I won't have Saturday morning coffee and bagel runs while jamming to the latest country music; I won't have her super comfy bed to climb into after a night out for catch-up time; I won't have her nearby for urgent fashion advice; and I won't have her hugs after a tough day or bad grade.
Leaving home to enter a place full of unknowns as many of us do when we leave for college is difficult; however, it's especially difficult for those of us who have much to leave behind, whether it be a sibling, a friend, a teacher, a pet. It's truly bittersweet.
So, I think this is the part in the yearbook message where I tell you how incredible you are, how you're going to achieve so many things in your life, and how you should keep in touch (not that you really have a choice with that one). And how I'm going to miss you so much.
To my sister, my voice of reason, & my closest friend—I love you.
