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I wanted to tell her that she was already great.
To me at least.
But I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
Besides, my sister would probably throw one of the rolls at me and call me a sap.
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” My mom asked.
Willow glanced at me, a smile playing on her lips. “No idea. That’s the beauty of it.”
“No plan. No directions. No limitations.” I added, grinning as I lifted my glass of water in the air.
Willow lifted her glass in the air and we exchanged a secretive smile, as she repeated, “No plan. No directions. No limitations.”
Willow
“You just got home and you’re already leaving.” Lylah sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. Drawing her legs up to her chest where she sat on my bed, she added, “Is it really so bad here that you have to get away from us?”
“Lyls,” I groaned, rolling up a t-shirt and fitting it into my duffle bag, “I wasn’t supposed to come home at all this summer, or at least until the end of it. You should be happy you’re getting to see me.”
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest in a dramatic fashion.
I turned the music up on my Bluetooth speaker, hoping it would help cheer her up.
Music could feed your emotions. That’s why when you were sad you listened to slow, depressing songs, and when you were happy you cranked up the bubblegum pop music.
The current song I was playing was one of those bubblegum pop ones and I watched as Lylah couldn’t help but begin to sway to the music.
Mission accomplished.
I added in some shorts and jeans and a jacket too. I had no idea where we might end up and I wanted to be prepared.
When my duffle bag was full I zipped it up and tossed it towards the door. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
My patchwork backpack hung from the knob of my closet door and I grabbed it, pitching in everything of importance that I’d want to have easily accessible. Like my wallet, and my passport (you never know), bubblegum and lollipops, (this was very important), my journal, pencils, and my Polaroid camera and film.
I was careful not to completely fill my backpack. I didn’t know what I might find while on the road that I’d want to bring back with me.
I set my backpack with my duffle bag and turned to find Lylah had fallen asleep in my bed.
I laughed under my breath and grabbed my pajamas before locking myself in the bathroom to shower.
By the time I emerged Lylah was gone and my room was dark except for the glow cast from the fairy lights hanging around the ceiling.
I loved my room. My mom and dad had let me do whatever I wanted with it, and while an explosion of color and slightly (or a lot) cluttered, it was one hundred percent me.
The walls were green, which seemed odd with my gray and yellow bedspread but somehow it worked.
Gold and silver stars dangled from the high ceilings, and when the light hit them just right they seemed to sparkle.
My walls were covered in an assortment of posters of different bands, motivational sayings, and then there was one wall that was only Polaroid pictures. Those pictures were a mixture of photos of me, my friends, my family, and places—pretty much everything. I was sure by the time I got back from the road trip I’d have a hundred more to add. It was my favorite part of my room, though, and every time I looked at it I couldn’t help but smile at the memories it evoked.
I knew I was lucky to have the parents, and house, and life that I did.
But that didn’t fill the void in my heart.
The longing for something more.
