by Kelly Risser
***
Kim and I stayed up most of the night talking. I was sad that she was leaving tomorrow. While I managed to make it this long without her, I forgot how much I enjoyed having her around. Her cheerfulness and high energy always managed to lift me, too. She brought a fresh perspective to my life, since she was the only person, besides my mom, who knew me before.
When I asked her what she thought, she said. “I’ll miss you, Meara, but this was the best thing your mom ever did for you.”
“How can you say that?”
“You are thriving here. You have family, you have a seriously gorgeous and wonderful boyfriend, and you have friends who love you.”
“But I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, and you’ll always be my best friend. I’d love for us to live closer.” She took a deep breath. “That said, this is where you need to be right now.”
She was right, of course. I knew it. We hugged each other, crying a bit. We talked about love, about the future—next summer, college and beyond. Kim planned to apply to the University of Wisconsin—Madison. She wanted to be a veterinarian. I admitted that I hadn’t been giving much thought to college and would probably start at a community college nearby to be close to my mom. It was past midnight when we fell asleep, and we were both disoriented when the alarm went off.
This time, I drove Kim to the airport by myself. I watched as she went through security. She turned and waved. I waved back until she was swallowed by the crowd of fellow travelers. My heart ached. I would miss her. I thought back to that day in first grade, when she had insisted I use her red crayon after I broke mine. We’d been inseparable ever since.
In many ways, Kim was a sister to me. I didn’t know when I would see her again.