Long ago and far away, my dear sister moved to Sedona, Arizona. I can't recall the exact year, it seems another lifetime. Sedona, way out west, in the mountains, those amazing red rocks, so foreign to the terrain of home, where we were raised, where I still live. Flashback: She and I were out to a casual dinner at a TGI Fridays in Woodbridge, Virginia when she dropped that bomb. She was leaving. The moment is frozen in my memory. I cried. Tears. In public. She was unabashedly delighted at my atypical display of emotion. I know she remembers it too.
My sister softens my sharp emotional edges. Of late, hormones have wiped out any residual resistance. Nowadays my tears fall freely, whenever, wherever. Lovely.
So I didn't want her to go but she did anyway. It was the right thing. My sister flourishes there. Visits since have been precious. This month brings what I am calling and what will certainly be A Grand Adventure. Ten days of sisterly togetherness, first reveling in her Sedona spaces followed by transcontinental travel via automobile with views of America neither of us have seen.
I am alive with anticipation.
A road trip with my sister!
Buckle the fuck up!