Station Wagon

Sister laughed at my joke like she always did—her laugh was one that could forever unsnarl me. I never took the time to appreciate it… I never realized just how much I needed it. She leaned back in the station wagon seat. “You’re such a nerd, Farah. Do you know what would be better than this, though?”

“No I don’t.” I tried to contain my emotions, but reality unfairly bubbled up my esophagus. Gulping wouldn’t push it back to where I wished it would remain. “What would be better?”

“If I were actually here right now,” my sister muttered morosely.

She dissipated, before I was given the chance to digest her words. The old station wagon seats seemed incredibly empty, even as my brothers took over all the available space within it. The air too… its oxygen seemed to be unapologetically ripped from the heart of it. Or perhaps I just noticed how cold everything had become.

I forgot she had died two years ago on this day.