My sister and I weren't exactly what you would call close. I used to think everything she did was 1, and always followed her and her friends around, hoping to be 2, but there isn't much room in a thirteen-year-old's life for a troublesome ten-year-old sister. Over time, we became 3 living in the same house, eating together but never communicating.
4 last year when she told me she'd study abroad for ten months, I wasn't too upset.
That first night after she 5, I sat in my room and tried to do homework. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Sitting there, I realized just how 6 it was without her in the house. I cried that night. I cried over all the years we had 7 trying to live our own lives and paying no attention to each other's. 8 as the night passed slowly, my tears changed to tears of new beginnings.
I 9 the phone and called her halfway across the world.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded as if it came from the room nearby and not South Africa.
"Hey, Tova. It's me, Sara. I 10 called to tell you I love you." My words came out in a rush. I knew that if I stopped in the middle, I wouldn't have the 11 to continue. "I know we aren't as close as some sisters, but that doesn't mean I'm not 12 you."
For a long time, there was only 13 on the other end. Finally, she spoke. "I've been sitting here, all alone, thinking about you back home," she said. "Your voice makes me feel as if I'm right there with you." And before she hung up she said, very 14 just as I had, "I love you, too."
I'm counting down the days until my sister returns home, so I can say, "I'm so glad to have 15 home".
