Monday, September 4, 2000

As time flies by you realize the importance of one second.

On Thursday morning last week, I was awoken at 4:15 am by my dad. In two seconds I realized what was about to happen. I got myself out of bed, expecting to be sad, expecting to be emotional, but I wasn't. I was quiet that morning, as my dad and my sister packed things into the car, pulled things together, all very military-like and without a twinge of emotion. On the drive to the airport, Sarah McLachlan's Solace played while we all silently thought of what was to come. Alexis probably thought of time to come, new adventures, and friends left behind. My dad probably thought of the years he spent raising Alexis, and the sense of accomplishment and sadness that sweeps over anyone when a loved one leaves them. I sat there wondering why I wasn't already crying. I wondered how I had managed to say only two words so far that morning. I thought about Alexis, on the road, on her way to college, in search of the future. I thought of Natalie and Matthew and Cynthia and Annalee and Amber and Christina and Zoe and I thought of my dad. I thought of so many things. I had my American Studies text book laying on my lap, and although my eyes crossed three pages of words, I did not process any of it. It was my safety net. I didn't want anyone in the car to know that i would be sad when Alexis left, because I had kept up the facade that I wouldn't care. But strangely enough, it felt as if I didn't.

She checked in her bags and we walked towards the gate. I sat down in a seat facing the window as Alexis and Daddy said their goodbyes. I could see them out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't tell whether they were very tired or very sad. But everything seemed like it was in slow motion, and my dad and my sister looked very slow in comparison, like each word out of their mouths took 30 seconds to say. Then I heard it, "Rachel," coming form my dad's voice, the way he calls me for dinner, and the way he calls me when I have a telephone call. I stood up and walked to her, and halfway there I realized what i was doing, and then I cried. I cried, but I didn't let her see it. I hugged Alexis, and still managed to say very little, and then watched her approach the door. I sat down again, facing away from the boarding gate. I was sobbing, and it was then that i realized how much I love her and how much I will miss her and how much I *need* her. I realized that she never knew that. My Dad stood at the window waiting for the plane to take off, and I sat far away, waiting with my tears for it all to end.

When he came up to me and said, "It's time to go now, Rachel," it all became slow motion again, and I struggled to stand up, wipe away my tears, brush away the memories, slowly, yet finally. I would have to let go. I would talk to her the next day and I would see her in 4 months. I can stay strong. Who knows when the tears decide to come. They just do, like they did the day Alexis left for college.