My sister and I never had the strongest relationship growing up. Sure, we would have our nonsense jokes and our fake meals over our plastic stove but there was always something missing. It was like we were on separate orbits, only crossing on occasion and destined to drift apart again. And we didn't fight it. My parents would always tell us that we were all each other had, that we were going to need to face this world together, but that didn't really mean much to either of us. We were too different, too independent, too focused on what we were already facing on our own.
One month ago today, I was standing a few blocks away from the finish line. In all of the chaos and panic that suddenly erupted, my sister called. I failed miserably at holding back tears as I promised her that I was safe and that everything was going to be okay. And I knew it would be, that it always would be, because even if the world threw us into chaos, even if it seemed to give up on us, I would have my sister and she would have me. Always.
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