Page 4 of Where You Are

“Okay, don’t shut up. Tell me more,” she laughs, grabbing another slice.

“So, where’s Mike?” I ask about her husband who is noticeably missing.

“He wanted to give us some girly time to reunite so he’s making himself scarce. He stayed late at the office to get ahead of some work.”

“Ah.” Nice guy that brother-in-law of mine.

We follow up our spicy pizza with heaping bowls of coffee ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup in the living room and laugh at some of our favorite comedy movies.

Being only a year apart in age, Sarah and I have always been close, despite our differing personalities. She was the studious one, I was the carefree one; she preferred to learn by the book while I preferred to learn by experience. She helped keep me on track with my schooling so that I could reach my potential and ambitions, while I taught her to kick back every now and then. We’ve always found a middle ground, like comedy movies and alternating loving and picking on our little brother Jack.

I stay up as late as I can with Sarah, but around eleven, I can no longer take the jet lag and retire to the guest room where she insisted I sleep at least for tonight. The plan is to move into her pool house tomorrow, so that she and I can have a respectful space, seeing as how she’s married and I strongly dislike being a third wheel. Besides, I want to focus on finding a job, eventually my own place, and hopefully, at some point, a nice husband of my own.

Before I crawl into the plushy, queen guest bed, I grab my most prized possession out of my suitcase. The children’s geography book is faded and battered with its gnarled corners and taped spine. So many countries are talked about in this book, each with a fun story to help give the young reader an idea of its culture.

One of mine and Sarah’s main differences was the fact that when I was born, she had already had thedaddy’s girlmarket cornered, and I think even in my infant and toddler years, I must’ve sensed it because Mom quickly became my favorite companion. I learned so much about her in those first six years of my life, but never so much as when she’d be reading this book to me before bed every night.

She’d always be watching travel shows whenever she had down time, or would just have the travel channel on for background noise when she was doing housework or cooking. Sometimes, she would stop what she was doing and just stare in awe at the screen for a minute before returning to her task. Around the age of four is when my curious little mind got the better of me and I started to ask her about it.

“What is that place, Mommy?”I asked one day. She’d looked to me in surprise, and as an adoring smile started to spread across her face, she answered me.

“That’s Egypt, sweetie.”

“Have you been there?”

“Uh… no,”she answered with a dreamy look in her eyes as they moved back to the screen.“But I’ve always wanted to. Do you see those?”She asked, pointing at the old, sand blasted pyramids.“Those are pyramids. I’ve always dreamed of seeing those up close.”

I went wide eyed when I looked at the screen, and from then on, I always asked about what wondrous country was being documented whenever she had that channel on. I’d sit and watch while she cleaned, cooked or sewed, and would tell her everything I learned in case she missed any of it. It turned into a serious bond between us, with her sharing her fascination with far-off lands with me while I pelted her with questions.

One day, when she had all three of us rug-rats in the book store with her, I followed her to the travel section while Sarah and Jack stayed in the children’s section nearby. She giggled so hard when I pulled an atlas that was thicker than a phone book off the bottom shelf and struggled to flip it open on the floor. That’s when she asked the store clerk to find something travel related but suitable for children, and that’s whenIt’s a Wonderful Journeycame into our lives. It was a thick book but not too overwhelming, and that became our go-to for story time before bed.

Each country and its attached story was wonderful and brought on more questions:

Have you been there before Mom?

Did you want to go?

Why didn’t you go on an adventure around the world?

Her answers were always the same:

No, but yes I did want to.

I didn’t explore the world because a different adventure found me instead – having a family. You, Sarah, Jack, your dad… you’re the greatest adventure I could’ve ever asked for, so it’s okay that I didn’t get this one,”she had answered, pointing down to the very middle of the book that opens to a full atlas of the world.

Her explanation to me at that age had only sort-of made sense. I wanted my mom to have her adventure, the one she always planned on. Looking back at the age I am now, I obviously know what she was talking about, and that she also meant it with all her heart. But there was no stopping the child me. I remember hopping out of bed and heading over to my art corner to grab a pink marker before climbing back in my twin bed beside her and asking her to point to every place she had wanted to go while I marked it with a pink dot. With a skeptical smile, she went along with it until she was sure we got all the places that had always appealed to her.

“Mom, we’ll go see these places together when I’m growed up and don’t have to go to school anymore,”I promised her.

“Deal,”she agreed with a soft giggle and a warm hug, and neither of us knew in that moment that she wouldn’t be around to join me on that journey. She was killed in a car wreck when I was six.

I’m briefly interrupted from my sweet memories by a gentle knock at the door. Sarah pops her head in, followed by the rest of her body and saunters over to the bed before plopping down with a foot tucked under her.

“Oh my gosh,” she says in a low voice that’s full of affection as her eyes land on the book. “You had it with you the whole time?” She lets out a soft giggle when the realization comes over her eyes. “Of course you did. Did you get them all?”

“See for yourself,” I say opening the book to the middle atlas so that she can see all the little purple dots next to the pink ones. All except the places in the U.S… those I figured were more accessible and I have the rest of my life to go visit; hopefully with a husband and rug-rats.

“Wow,” she says on an exhale, shaking her head. Having her sitting on this bed with me and marveling at my book brings on another memory; one that connected us on a level that siblings shouldn’t have to, but made our bond ironclad.

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