Footprints on My Heart

The sun bathed our shining faces in between the warm ocean sprays and our hearts lifted high to join the symphonic combination of seagull squawks and our uncontrollable laughter. We laid on our bellies and stuck our hands off the side of the catamaran to feel the water weave through our fingers as we sped over-SWOOSH-

The sound of metal meeting plastic. I’m in the back seat of my mom’s worn down suburban. Mom had tried to be strong when she shut her car door, brining me out of my daydream, and she joined the rest of us on the elevated pavement across that endless river of cars and exhaust. The day my family and I had been dreading since Leslie pulled up her long brown locks and embarked on her first day at Memorial High had arrived. My big sister was headed for college.

The trip to our terminal that morning went by in a blur of dimmed colors and faceless people. I only remember the distinct smell of rubber and leather as we ascended the escalators, but I was not freed for the moment by a blankness of mind. The constant sound of shoes shuffling as they hurried along caused me to wonder if the owners of those shuffles had to escort their big sisters out of their lives, too- big sisters who held every treasured memory and every joke, every pet and every hideout, every summer spring winter and fall, and every loss like a steel chest.

Then came the wait. We had a good half an hour before boarding, so my family filed into the far right row of chairs to sit and rest. I passed the seat they had saved for me and slipped into an open unit three rows behind. There was my escape, where I was safe, where no one could disrupt my reminiscing and pull me back into harsh reality, where I had Leslie right at my side, right where she was supposed to be. I shut my eyes.

It was a couple years after the Caymans, and our little legs were swinging off the rough grey arm of an apple tree on the grounds of Mr. Eirheart’s country home. Her face was splashed with color, as everything that fall had taken on hues of red, orange, and yellow. Our Kool-Aid stained lips formed muted laughter underneath wrinkled noses as our bright eyes spied “It”. She was always better at the game than I was, but not because of her motionlessness.
“Shh! Leslie! You laugh and he’ll find us!”
“If he finds me I’ll run to base before he knows what hit him!”
And she could too. Base was the rusty tractor across the field, and she would hit it every time with out being grazed by even his finger.
“Aren’t you going to say Goodbye?” a voice brought me back to the itchy cloth seat in the airport. It was my childhood staring back at me through eyes of a 17 year old, it was Leslie, my Leslie. Our goodbye was short and sweet, I walked with her to the extent that the stewardess would allow and then watched as my only sister, my role model, and my best friend boarded a plane for New York. The tears I had been fighting back broke past my wall of will and I pivoted on my black Converses to face the wall opposite the Jet taking off with half my heart inside it. A heavy tear pulled my right eye down like a shutter, and my left eye passively followed, bringing with it a vivid picture of Leslie’s peaceful face.

Something strange happened then upon opening my eyes, I forgot the void in my spirit Leslie’s departure left me with and noticed for the first time the owners of the shuffled feet. I noticed their lines and their expressions, their mannerisms and their speech, and with that inspection I wondered about how they came to possess those traits. Then I had an epiphany that would change my life ultimately. Though Leslie’s room would be empty till Christmas, and the only contact she’d have with me would be over the phone, I had not lost her. I saw that I am a part of her and she is a part of me. We drew on each other, throughout our years together, facial lines and expressions that will be fixed with us wherever we go, be it the beach, the country, or Columbia University. I realized at that moment that all the memories I thought I was letting go of and all the precious times we shared are permanently embroidered on our persons. She fed my character and I fed hers, and when the shuffled feet of the future wonder about how she came to be whom she is, I will be inscribed to her bones. I realized that we have made an impact on each other’s life that no distance can erase. I realized that I have a purpose, and I was happy.

This was a not the same happy I’d feel when I found the prettiest seashell or won a game of Hide and Seek, this was raw joy that radiated from my core. I can make lines in the other people fate pairs me with, I have made an impact, and I have a purpose. To this day, I have found no greater ecstasy than the delight of my heart that is induced by this truth.