Yes, she's moving home

“I'm moving back home.” my sister tells us. “I'll be working in the personnel division of a local branch of a big company.”

Stunned by the news I look around. My parents and Danny seem to feel the same way, because nobody is saying a word. I can imagine Marisa wasn't sure about our reaction, but is very surprised by no reaction at all.

“I've talked to a realter and already found a few apartments that sound promising.” Marisa goes on, trying to get a reply from anybody. Unable to speak I lean towards her and pull her into a hug. My mother starts to cry and my father just looks at his little girl.

“Our girls are coming home.” she sobs and Dad hugs her. Danny just grins over his whole face and looks at us grown-ups. The next half-hour is filled with tears of joy and laughter. After that my sister, tired by the long drive here, takes a nap in the living room.

I go back to my room, grab Stella and climb onto the garage. My fingers seem to move by themselves. The thought of having my sister back and being to see her very day gives me new inspiration and melodies start to pop into my head. Time goes by and the day starts to heat up, even though the weather report stated the next few days the temperatures wouldn't be as high as the last few days.

The events of the day make me think of the first song I've ever written. It always made me think of Marisa and until today I never finished it. Going back through years of memories the notes flow into my mind and I start to play it.

Out of the corner of my eye I make out something and turn my head. With surprising elegance, Marisa steps out onto the garage. Besides the round belly sticking out under her top, I can see my sister how she was before she left. Every inch of her body a work of perfection. The wind has freshened up and messes up her long brown hair. With careful steps she gets next to me and lets herself fall next to me. A quiet sigh escapes her lips. The pregnancy seems to be pretty tough on her, but as I know her, it's nothing she can't handle. Trying to enjoy the moment she rests her head on my shoulder, as I continue to play.

Seeing Marisa's profile next to me, looking over the city, the memories from our childhood come back. The teenage girl, that played with her little brother, or looked after me when our parents were out of town. She was always there. The day she left for college was devastating. I'm not very insecure and I admit that everybody cries from time to time, even me. But that day was different, it was the only occasion I really felt the tears. Those memories run trough my head as we sit on the garage looking over our hometown.