The night before Sarah moved out I remember watching the eleven o’clock news and seeing that the morning was to being a bright and beautiful day. It was going to be a perfect beach day. I planned to wake up in the morning, make some pancakes and invite my sister to go to the beach. It had been several weeks since we spent time together, and I knew she had the morning off, so this would be the perfect opportunity. That morning I woke up to hear my father’s truck backing up to the house. Confused, I stumbled out of bed and managed my way to the window to see boxes cluttering the front lawn.
The wonderful smell of freshly cut grass filled the air. That morning my sister moved to Rhode Island. She did not tell anyone about her move until an hour before she planned to leave, when she asked my father to borrow the truck. There went my plans for pancakes. Sarah was my half sister.
She was a daughter from my father’s previous marriage. I admit we never had the ideal sibling relationship, but I loved her unconditionally nonetheless. We came from a split and broken family and everyone always tried to make the best of it. Apparently everyone tried to make the best of it except for Sarah. I went downstairs and stood out on the front porch barefoot in what I slept in the night before.
Boxes of her belongings were packed and stacked along the driveway. She walked by me without saying a word, avoiding eye contact. Speechless, I followed her into her bedroom and said, What is this? As she picked up another box she looked up and said, I’m moving to Rhode Island. I did not know what to say. It had only been about ten minutes since the rumbling of my dad’s truck had waked me. Confused and shaken I went to the kitchen where my mother was sitting with her coffee.
She stared out the window in a complete trance. Can someone please tell me what is going on here? I was starting to get angry at everyone’s lack of words. Apparently you’re sister is moving in with a friend. It seemed that no one cared that my sister was leaving without telling anyone, except for me. Her cold-heartedness was gut wrenching.
Our broken family was starting to crumble and dissolve to nothing. At that moment and time, I felt I was the only one who cared about our family. Frustrated, I went back to Sarah. She was loading things into the bed of the truck with this girl whom I had never seen before. Her name was Sonia and apparently this was my sister’s new roommate. She had blond dyed hair and contacts that gave her blue eyes, though her natural color was brown.
She was disgustingly overweight and from what I sensed, had the personality of a rock. I never had met Sonia before and she did not make a good first impression. So I got this place in Little Compton. Sarah said it so nonchalantly. When were you planning on telling mom and dad you were moving out? I said choking back tears, completely offended. She went on to say that she’s old enough to make her own decisions and that this is her life.
Granted she was eighteen, her way of handling the situation was inconsiderate and immature. Sonia and Sarah continued to load up the truck. In the meantime my father sat silent in his reclining chair. He looked at me and sighed. Staring at the floor and patting the dog he shook his head, almost in shame. It seemed he was ashamed of his own daughter.
Sarah came over to the living room where my parents and I were sitting. I’m leaving now. She said it so cold, almost as if we were kicking her out. My parents just looked at her and told her to call when she reached her destination. The tone of their voice just screamed disappointment.
Standing in the driveway with my arms crossed I stared at her. She hugged me and said she’d be in touch. I was astounded. I didn’t even know how to react. She jumped in the truck and started it up.
I stood there and watched her drive up the dirt road she lived at the end of for eighteen years. She sped off leaving any sense of family she ever had, behind, in Massachusetts. The July morning sun beat down on my shoulders and I remember thinking what a beautiful beach day it would have been. Bibliography none required.