When The Bird Flies

My sister is a performer. She has this way of lighting up a room when she walks into it. She and my father are kindred spirits in that they feel most at home in front of a crowd...singing, playing, telling stories. They capture the attention of those around them. There are times when I feel so grateful when she walks in and rescues me in the middle of a conversation, and there are times when I feel immediately extinguished for the same reason.

She is ten years my junior.

I remember tucking her in bed at night, reading bedtime stories, & letting her play with my makeup. I changed her diapers and helped her pee in a toilet. I taught her the lyrics to, "The Flame" by Cheap Trick. She was a very young performer, singing the song in front of my teenage friends to their, "Awwwww.....thats so cuuuute!!" exclamations. I was 17 when I left home for college. She was 7. That was almost 20 years ago.

She leaves for New York in less than two weeks.

To say that my heart is breaking while it is beaming is the only way to describe how I feel. I'm so, so happy for her. She has the courage to fly... to chase a dream regardless of where it leads...to jump without a net. For her to move to a place full of art, song, and dance fills me full of delight. We should all be so lucky as to be immersed in a culture that we love. She's said many times that she doesn't know how long she'll be there, but it doesn't matter...she must go. Now's her time.

But, my heart breaks, too. I feel spoiled to have been around her these past 10 months. She's one of the very few people that I ever really let in to my own little walled-off heart, and it hurts to see her depart. It's a selfish hurt, but a raw one. I also have that big-sister stigma...who'll be there to make sure that she's safe on the subway, who will be there for her to talk to about how her audition went...letting go can be so hard sometimes.

I think of my children, and how this is only one small experience of what is to come. For I know that in time I will see many of those I love dearly bat their wings and fly. There's something natural about it. There's something beautiful about it, and there's something a little sad about it, too.