Renee and I have done a lot of packing and unpacking in our lives, some of it together but too much apart. As I prepare to head home to Omaha to unpack from our “vacation” that was meant to be spent with her and my wonderful family and repack for a new life path in Boston, my thoughts never drift far from Renee.
My first packing memory comes from 1989, as our family prepared to move from Plymouth, Minnesota, to Amarillo, Texas. I think that everything in my room had been packed but my little red bed with Sesame Street sheets and my Winnie the Pooh nightlight, and everything but her bed had been packed in Renee’s fuschia-carpeted room next door. In the middle of the night, I woke up and my room looked scary and different, with all the familiar things down off the walls. But I don’t know if I ever cried, because the next thing I can remember is Renee peeking open the door and tiptoeing into my room to hug me and lay with me for a little bit. That probably wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last time she would comfort me in the middle of the night…
Next, Amarillo, Texas: As much as I hate to admit it, my mother is right when she says Renee was the sweet child (and the smart one). At age 6, I had packed my little animal-alphabet carpet bag and began to try to run away on a regular basis, though my reasoning escapes my mind. Poor Renee was always stuck with the job of helping me unpack that silly bag. After I made it to two blocks away one last foiled attempt, Renee grumbled to me as we unpacked that if I was going to run away, then I had better at least pack some food and clothes and leave out at least a few of the toys.
Packing for camping trips, music camps, a move to Nebraska, college… She always had a lighter suitcase and still had all she needed.
July 17th, 2004, 9 something am: I am madly rushing to finish curling Renee’s hair in my upstairs yellow bathroom, but she keeps bouncing around, her ears coming threateningly close to the hot iron. Yet as I hurry to finish her hair and pack her shoes, her makeup, some hairspray into a tote, I want so badly to just stop and stay in this moment. We have laughed so much this beautiful summer morning, and it is the last day that we will ever call the same house home. My sister looks so beautiful and happy as we smile at each other in the mirror. We aren’t little girls any longer.
Now I will never pack alone.
1 Comments:
I love her so much and I miss her. I just now read this blog for the first time--going back through e-mails and the address was there. Packing alone? I told John/Jay that on Friday. I was preparing for the lake--Renee should've been calling me to see what to bring. Every food item I packed was packed through tears. Renee is supposed to bring desserts (gourmet desserts--prepared in the middle of the night!) She is supposed to bring special drinks for me to try out. We are supposed to spend hours drinking Coronas and floating on air mattresses and acting silly--then fixing our "glop" for snacks--dancing to the music and being silly. We had so much fun together. And, this summer--she was back in Stillwater...She, and Maggie (my other daughter-in-law), and I--the three of us worked together in the kitchen on the weekends. We miss her. We always will. Her smile--her laughter..Her sweet self. I love you, Renee. Jane
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