Remember Me

"I--I-I don't understand. Where are you going?" The desperation is practically coming off of me in waves.

"How many times do I have to tell you? When are you going to understand?"

A pause of silence.

"Huh, no answer. Just as I thought."

My sister leaves today, moving far, far away to where she'll never have to see us ever again.

Her room is bare, save for the few clothes that she wore yesterday. Her room is just as it was before, a small brown wooden dresser up against the right wall, her thin mattress of a bed supported by the left wall and gone are her many K-Pop posters that had once covered the ugly yellow-beige color of the walls.

I remember the times that I heard her singing and muffled thumps of her dancing. She was always good with both. Gifted, our teachers would say. Talented, said Ellen. Pure awesomeness, I would say when she let me watch her practice.

And now, she is finally going to follow her dream.

She says that I'll be able to see her on TV. I wonder if that's true, but my sister is not one to quit. She's smart, the best person I have ever known. If anyone could rule the world, it would be her.

When she succeeds, I hope she'll remember me.