My family knows I will be back in two months.

Last time I told my family I would be back in two months.

My sister dropped me off after we ate Mexican today.

Last time my sister dropped me off with pasta in a plastic container.

I wore a backpack, I wore the same one today.

The first time I left for Europe, I paced up to the Delta counter and I realized something I wish I hadn’t, my backpack already felt too heavy.

I didn’t believe in the giant packs that hippies wear as they cross continents. It’s a style issue, a clash of interests. But I learned my shoulders matter more than my style or my interests.

The flight attendant confirmed, incredulously, that I wasn’t checking a bag, and I wasn’t carrying one either. For that, she said, I was bumped up to Premium Economy, with a wink as she handed me my boarding pass.

I walked into the plane and realized I had became a movie star except no one informed me of why. There was a bright red bar that was angled in the entry and champagne was being dispensed from trays held by proper, Irish flight attendants in red vests and skirts held together by French Twists on their heads. They all had French twists. They were’t French, but the twists were.

I was the middle of a lady sandwich, between a New Zealander and a Brit, sipping on champagne that I questioned because I wasn’t sure it was free. I decided I’d chance it and see if the Flight Attendant wanted money, I could always hand it back to her. “Just jokes!”

But she turned away and asked nothing of me, so I was pretty excited about free champagne. I realized Premium Economy was more of an upgrade from coach than simply 6 more inches of leg room. I was moved from inside the lady sandwich to a window seat, next to a Brit who had a lot of opinions and a lot of whiskey siphoned by his friends in first class. He was bummed that he was in premium economy, and I was thrilled. I got moved to the seat because my seatbelt wouldn’t clasp in the lady sandwich. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t like the drunk Brit very much. He spilled wine on himself, fell asleep and was sober and mute again when we landed and he awoke.

This time I am next to a nearly mute lady who is asleep. She has no opinions or whiskey.

The clouds look like God’s mattress but from the inside. No springs, just fluff. Some of them looked like running, smoothed sands.

I had to say goodbye to my sister and we both cried. Seeing my sister’s whole face pucker up to catch her tears or prevent them from coming out at all is more than I can take. She has a gasp/laugh/poof of air that comes out of her when she cries that serves as an admission that she is crying and she doesn’t like it, it’s a little funny to her, but really she is sad.

We have a sistership.

We are none the same and sometimes we don’t get along at all. But then we get over it, or we are silent until we are, and usually things are resolved by the next day. I worry about money, she worries about being bored. I worry about getting fat, she worries about being alone. It works out.

But mostly we are stuck together by the same kind of peanut butter that gets ground by the consternation of adolescence, the sadness of moving from your birth town and embracing a new one, getting a BRAND NEW HOME together three days before Christmas and laying on air mattresses in an empty house by an active fireplace. We find ourselves in one another except we are not the same. We are together. We are friends. We are sisters and that’s the word for it.

But now we are in a long-distance sistership and that is sad.

So the biggest different between this trip and the last one was that I was traveling last time, now I am hovering indefinitely. There is more at risk, more in question, and more at stake.

Now I am fumbling maniacally for a plug on the ground in the dark, hoping I find an outlet.

I hope that she feels comforted by seeing my furniture at her place. She kept all the really important stuff and the rest is in my parents attic.

If I like living in Europe, I’ll sell my car. Then the sum total of my earthly possessions will be encased in Sterilite.

Last time I was numb. This time I am excited and nervous. I think that’s an improvement from numb.

Here’s to fumbling in the dark in a city I visited for 24 hours. Come and get me, circumstance, I’m as free as I’ll ever be.

And Gretchen, if I could do this trip with you, I would, but I promise I will tell you all about it if you tell me about yours.