Snoozed alarms and rushed breakfasts. Yelling, angry sisters and parents trying to stop their useless fighting. Rushed hair and impatient urges out the door. I yelled at my sister for the third time that morning that we didn’t have to leave right at 7:20. 

She didn’t care. 

Loud music blasts through the speakers as she drives, staring straight ahead. Too mad to talk. 

Her red Subaru sits in the driveway with the seat heaters on. She always would turn them on when she was losing her patience. I usually got the hint. 

It’s her senior year of high school, and she can’t bear the idea of not being the first car in the lot. I mean, it’s annoying. Why do I have to wake up early just to sit in the car for 30 minutes before school? 

Every morning it was the same routine of barely leaving on time because I took too long to get ready. We started off the year strong, always leaving right when she wanted. I got tired of getting to school 30 minutes early every day. So I started sleeping in, and that’s when we started leaving later and later. 

My sister can be hot-tempered. Her face turns bright red when she gets mad, almost as red as her hair. And she’s mad at me a lot. I guess I can be a bit annoying sometimes.

We drive in silence most days, eating our chocolate Eggos and listening to her music, always her music because my music taste is “bad.” Even though she never bothered to listen to it. 

On some rare days, when we didn’t fight, when we weren’t late, and when my hair actually looked good, we’d sing. Spending months listening to her music, I’d memorized it all. I think she secretly played songs she knew I liked, even when she was mad at me. 

We’d sing, we’d laugh and we’d talk like sisters. We’d yell at the bad drivers in front of us, and the never ending stop signs. We always made it to school on time. Whether the drive was full of laughter or silence. 

By the time the last month of school rolled around, there was less fighting. She didn’t care about being the first in the lot anymore, and she really only cared about making it to graduation. 

I found myself wondering in those last few months why it was so important that we left so early when we always made it there on time. My mom told me that it was because she was so nervous about parking in the small parking spaces, that she wanted to be able to park without the stress of a packed parking lot. 

Suddenly it all made sense. It wasn’t about being the first one there, it was about being able to have a stressless morning that would start with easy parking.

Something that made my morning so much worse, made hers that much better. 

Still, as she loaded her trunk full of packed suitcases and hugged me a final goodbye, I wish I had woken up earlier. I wish we fought less and I wish we weren’t so mad at each other during the little time we had together in those mornings. 

The final hug set everything into place.

I wished for the time I want back, emotions I could take away, and a sister who didn’t move 862 miles away.