An Autobigraphical Paper

This is an autobigraphical paper and received

an A-.

Two Months

The day my sister left for England, something inside of me woke up. It felt like the desert sand being surprised by cool wet rain, my amazement and surprise was just the same. The reality that this was really happening, we really were being separated, all became too much for me. As close as two siblings could be, it is often difficult to distinguish between Georgie and I. One wonders, where does Georgie start, and where do I begin? Who developed the sarcastic wit, and who picked it up as the years went by? My life is so extraordinary linked to this woman. She is vibrant, she is intelligent. She is beauty that is discovered in the rarest of places, she is the lyrics in that sad song. She is the stars that I wish upon, and she is the cure to every sickness I possess.

It began in the morning, Sunday the seventh. The day started just like any other, and surprisingly it took me a few minutes to remember that this was the last day for a year that I’ll get to spend with this Georgie. As I crawled into her bed to wake her up, I wondered how I would start a new life, in a new school, with new friends with out my sister at my side. Georgie is my confidante and everything that I do needs approval from her. Every joke I make is applauded with laugher from her. We come as a package; she complements me just as I complement her.

Breakfast with the family was a Sunday morning affair. As we gathered around the table the food was soon forgotten as final details were organised and final promises were made. Georgie and I went back to the bedroom afterwards, to re-pack her bag, wishing all the while that this day wasn’t happening. We spent the afternoon together, doing what we do best, watching “Friends,” laughing, conversing in languages only we can digest. The afternoon was interrupted by the arrival of her current beau, and as they shared their final moments alone, realization crept under the front door, and the house grew quiet.

At the departure gate I tried to tell her just how much she meant to me, but I never did quite manage to find the right words. There was spluttering, hugging, pleading and kissing. Her boyfriend of four months, sobbing like a little boy, begging her not to go. My mother looking sordidly normal, making us all wonder why she was not wrought with despair. My grandpa shaking his head at the way the young lovers said goodbye, and my father beaming with pride that his daughter was taking on such a challenge. And then there was me, baffled and unable to speak, gagging on tears and clinging to her side. All too suddenly she walked into the line of assorted passengers, blending well with the crowd. I remember being amazed that she could stand there with such certainty, being willing to take the step onto the massive super white plane. After I felt sure she would not look back, she shot a glance my way, and I think it was then that I understood her. This was her life, and her chance to be free. This challenge was a mountain that no mountaineer would easily climb, and here she was, climbing