Departure

Mr. Million and Chi came over on Monday to help pack. I sat in the living room with all of my clothing and accoutrements strewn all over and watched as Lil' Sis, Chi, Mr. Million and Mom packed everything in my two suitcases. I felt stretched and brittle, tears threatening to blind me as we debated which shirts to leave home and which to take.

Wednesday, I said goodbye to Mom, trying not to cry, because if I started I knew I wouldn't go. Poochie seemed bewildered. She stayed under the table, her tail thumping hesitantly as I scratched her ears and told her I'd be back.

"Open this over the Pacific Ocean," Mom said, pressing an envelope in my hand.

I took it and shoved it in my bag, nodding. "I will."

Then I left, ripping off a Goodbye like a sticky band-aid. I waved to Mom as she stood in the car headlights. I don't know if she could see it or not.

We picked up Mr. Million and drove to the airport. After baggage check, we sat behind the stairs as I fiddled with the sea-bands rumored to stave off motion-sickness. (Note: They really work. I didn't throw up once.)

Then upstairs to the security check. Lil' Sis and Mr. Million couldn't go through security as they did not have a boarding pass. We hugged goodbye, tears pricking my eyes red. Another fast Goodbye and I moved to the line.

"We'll wait until you get through security," Lil' Sis said.

I craned over the heads of people behind me, trying to see them. I caught a glimpse of Mr. Million's hat, the sleeve of Lil' Sis' shirt. I blinked and the crowd parted for a moment. The last image was Lil' Sis smiling at something Mr. Million had said. Then the gap closed and I moved forward.

I sat in my window seat and looked out the window. The plane took off and I stared through blurry eyes at the familiar roads. Flickering like a firefly was the thought that if I had sat on the other side, I could see the roof of my house. There's Bangerter Highway, there's 4100 South, there;s I-215, there's the Jordan River. And there's Utah Lake, reflecting the sky like a broken mirror, clouds rippling across the silver-blue surface. Then the plane lifted higher until I could see nothing but white. So I closed the window and shut my eyes.

Lil' Sis' Amazing Talking Hands

Lil' Sis talks with her hands. I don't mean a gesture here and there to make a point, but a full-blown, hand-waving symphony for her own voice, conducted by her own hands. To be fair, she doesn't do it all the time. I notice it at work, where I sit next to her in our little gray cubicles, tethered to a computer by a headset designed by someone with no concept of "head" or "set" and how they should fit together. Lil' Sis perches on the edge of her chair, elbows on the desk, hands moving back and forth like a Tai Chi master. It is as if she moves the air in front of her, it will somehow push her words into the microphone and find that small, reasonable part of the caller's brain that everyone (supposedly) has. The more difficult the caller, the more hand-speech is involved. At times, when her mouth isn't moving, Lil' Sis' hands will alight on the keyboard to type in information. Occasionally, her right hand will click the mouse while her left hand independently churns the air.
I have long since believed that if she had no hands, she would lose half of her vocabulary.
Her hands have quite a way to get the point across.
Take today for instance; While driving home, I saw a yellow Volkswagon Bug. In compliance with all car games, I immediately pinched Lil' Sis twice with a "Tweet! Tweet!" to signify that I saw the yellow car first, and then repeatedly hit her on the knee while chirping, "Buggy car! Guess what color?"
Without hesitation or any warning, she whipped around and slugged me in the arm.
"Yellow!" she shouted.
I immediately stopped hitting her knee. It wasn't very hard, as my arm went numb from the shoulder down. It was a perfect knuckle shot to the shoulder - I could practically hear my muscle scream in protest.
"Ow! Ouch! Owie!" I shouted.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Lil' Sis exclaimed, immediately contrite. "You can hit me back if you want!"
Tempting as it was, I declined the offer. "No, thanks. There's no sense in both of us being in pain," I gritted out.
That's what I said, but what I meant was, "No, thanks. I don't think there is any possible way for me to hit you quite as hard as you have hit me."
Maybe next time, I should let my hands do the talking.

Corn Stalker

I threw my little sister in front of a chainsaw-wielding madman yesterday. I heard the rev of the motor somewhere off to my right and saw the wave-like rustle of the corn as he ran towards us. Without hesitation, I snatched Lil' Sis' arm and tossed her closer to the edge of the path while shrieking my lungs out. I closed my eyes, waiting to hear the sound of chain blade meeting flesh.
After a moment, I opened an eye.
Lil' Sis laughed, her shoulders shaking, her face pale and slightly menacing in the moonlight. "Hoo, boy, Hannah," she chuckled. She might have wiped a tear from her eye. "Let's keep going."
She grabbed my elbow and steered me down the path.
I did my level best to stay in the exact middle. I wanted as much room between me and the crazies as I could get. I heard the chain saw moving further away and breathed a sigh of relief.
"I didn't know it was going to be a haunted corn maze," I murmured, softly so as to prevent that guy with the clown mask from getting a lock on our position.
Lil' Sis beamed, her canines lengthening. I blinked rapidly, and her teeth were back to normal.
"Neither did I," she replied, a little too loudly for my sense of security.
I scowled. "I mean, when someone says, 'Let's go to a corn maze', this is not what I--"
BANG!
I screamed and jumped away from the sound. A tall, menacing person in black and an unidentifiable mask loomed out of the darkness. He held a short stick in one hand and banged it against the barrel again. I twitched and Lil' Sis snickered.
"Keep going," she encouraged, her hands pressing into my back. "You have to be in front."
"--why anyone would want to bang on metal barrels is beyond me," I muttered when I remembered how to breathe.
The rest of the haunted portion followed its precedent. A person dressed in frightening apparel would lunge out or bang a barrel or invade my personal space and I would scream while Lil' Sis would laugh. Rinse. Repeat. We made it to the end without losing any body parts, major or otherwise.
"I just come to watch you freak out," Lil' Sis said at one point - which is why I felt fully justified in using her as a human shield.
Too bad she makes such a small one.