It's not like this is the first time we've been parted. Certainly it won't be the last, right? . . . . RIGHT? Anyway, I don't think it's possible that you will forget me, but I believe in playing it safe. I want to be with you in some way, not just as a fading memory, but as a fellow traveler who happens to be taking a slightly different route. I want you to still laugh with me (or at me, because I'd rather you do that than somebody else. At least then it will be a fair exchange of mockery), still roll your eyes, or give me your perspective off-handily – not realizing I could never have seen it like that in a thousand years. You won't be able to point out the little oddities for me anymore - the colors, the inclusive 'or's, the fan in iRobot - and I won't be able to torture you with my poetry (at least, not as effectively). But we can still touch, here, still brush past each other, say hello, ask if the rats are still alive.
I'd like that. Because,
I don't want to miss you
anymore
than I have to.
Love,
Your sister
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