The door made a soft whining sound and I held my breath. Trying to escape the repercussions of not making a silent getaway was pointless. Knowing what would happen, because of the faint creak, my face froze. She was a light sleeper and the antonym of ‘rise and shine’–but then again, who loves being woken by their little sister trying to snatch their clothes while they’re asleep? She turned over, groaning, and it echoed just loud enough for our mother to hear down the hall, dictating me to stay out of her closet and leave her alone. After a quick mumbled apology and a swift, but inaudible, shut of her bedroom door, I sulked back to my room. Now, to sort through my mess of a closet to find something to wear, due to my failed raid.

As soon as I got home from school, I knew Bailee would’ve completely disregarded the whole ordeal and be ready to spend what was left of the day together. We always got along, even when we were young and I snuck in her room to ransack her closer. She’s been the person who I’ve shared so much with and the first person I devoted my time to. Even when we both grew up and had best friends of our own, we were still there for each other. We were together through the unforgettable summer nights, when we had sleepovers in each other’s rooms, and the distress of our household falling apart as our parents separated. I’d never really experienced anything without Bailee beside me. When we fought, they were quick bickers, and after many years and fleeting friendships, she was still my sister after all.

I came home from a night with my friends to boxes scattering Bailee’s room, marked “handle with care” and full of the things deemed worthy for her college dorm. I tried to not seem fazed at the fact that her move-in day was tomorrow. I was fully aware that soon the room we had so many adventures in would just be an empty shell of her left behind, unworthy, belongings. It was the first taste of the reality of my sister leaving.

When she was in college, it was not as bad as I anticipated. Her closet still had half her clothes in it, and her bed remained freshly made for her to come home to nearly every other weekend. Then as the weeks slipped away, so did the time we spent together. Suddenly her apartment near her college campus was “home,” and she was getting engaged.

Her first years of college had been hard enough, and now, she was getting married and moving to Tennessee. How were we supposed to be sisters, living seven hours apart? Every time a major change had impacted my world, Bailee had been there. What was I to do now that the major change is her leaving home? When these thoughts bubble up in my head flooding every other thought away, I force them down before I burst out. This change made my heart clench at the thought of losing the normality of my home.

As her appearance on the aisle, the happiest day of her life, grows nearer, so do the realizations that this may not be the most horrendous thing to happen to us. Though I felt robbed of precious moments with Bailee, she is still my sister. She will come home to see me, we can chatter all afternoon on the phone, and she’ll always be my best friend. After all, seven hours apart could never keep us apart. And I know in a couple months, when all the boxes were packed, her room is cleaned out, and she shuts her bedroom door for the last time, she will still be my pesky older sister.