Everything in Transit

it is currently the summer of 2026 and i am 34 years old. as i type this, i am sitting in the living room of a house that i own, with my cat sleeping peacefully beside me. i got the degrees, i got the job, i got the husband, i got the house, i got the retirement account.

things are so much different now than they were before but in many ways they are very much the same. i am still haunted by the choices of my parents. i am still gutted by the course that our lives have taken. i am many miles and years away from it all, but it is still right there at the surface, always.

if i could say anything to my sister, i would say this:

i am sorry that i left, and that i could not take you with me. i am sorry our roads diverged so severely and i am sorry that they were forced back together so abruptly. i am sorry for the burdens that you bear. i am sorry for injecting myself into your life. i am sorry that i can't give any more to you, that i can't help you any more than i already have. i am sorry that our relationship has been defined by the people who raised us. i am sorry you are the one who must live with the consequences of decisions that were made before either of us were born. in another life, i think we might have been true sisters, friends to the end, eternal confidantes. but these are the cards that have been dealt to us.