One morning I woke up, looked beside me, and both quickly and quietly as possible, inched away.
I searched the floor, found me a trail of clothing and just started putting on clothes while making my way down the longest hallway ever. By the time I made it to the stairs, I was pulling on my socks and I was at the doorway by the time my shoes were on my feet. I would have had a quick getaway, but in the front foyer I spotted the same shoes my sister had been wearing the evening before, so I started on up the stairs to find her.
It was crazy and unbelievable as all hell, but she was tiptoeing down the same stairs at exactly that same moment, and we both immediately smothered giggles as we spotted one another.
She put her shoes on just as fast as I had, and we both stepped outdoors, twin disasters stumbling in step with one another. She looked in one direction while I looked in the other. We both looked at each other with similar confused expressions and finally she asked if I had any idea where we were. I didn't. We smothered down giggles again, and walked away from the house. We made it half a dozen blocks before realizing that we weren't even in the same town that we started off in.
We didn't speak much on the way home. In fact, after taking the most expensive cab ride ever, we went our separate ways. Not long after that, she stopped partying and started studying. She then took a plane halfway around the world and ended up in Thailand. I half-assedly applied to college and went in the opposite direction, north, to Thunder Bay.
After more than a few years, we ended up back in the same small town, changed people.
We still have fun, but not like that anymore.
Do I miss it?
Achingly, but just as equally and in the same breath, no.
Not so much anymore.