Weekend Fabulousness

This weekend, I spent a lot of time sailing on the Nile River with friends, just eating, talking, and laughing as we passed sights I cannot fathom I'm lucky enough to get to see.  Every time I even catch a glimpse of the Nile, I have to remind myself that I am not dreaming - this is reality.  I live near the Nile River.  Still so surreal, and I hope I never forget to marvel at it.  Gratitude fills me numerous times a day.

I also saw my first movie in Cairo today, Ice Age 4.  It was an intriguing cinematic experience.  It started 25 minutes late (that's just how things are sometimes), there was an intermission, and people talked at full volume during the entire film.  So, you'd think with all that great material to choose from, I might feel compelled to write about one or all of those things.  But I want to write about the highlight of my weekend: talking to my sister on Skype.   

Here's what I have realized since I've been in away from home (and I've lived in Egypt exactly a month today): my sister is more important to me than I ever imagined.  I knew I would miss her, and I know I love her a ridiculous amount, but I underestimated how truly close and connected we are.  We spent so much time together when we lived in the same town, just hanging out and laughing.  And today when I heard her voice for the first time in three weeks, I burst into tears after the first word was uttered.  So did she.  I miss her.  So very much.  It was wonderful to talk for over 90 minutes this afternoon and get caught up with her.  I needed it. 
 
Because here are the things I think of when I think of her: the fact that our histories are shared, and I can just look at her, and she knows what I need; how our eyes, hair, and freckles match, especially in our one-handed, faces-filling-the-screen photos; giggling and belly-laughing at everything (and nothing); the ferociousness that overcomes her if someone has wronged me (and the fact that I know she'd kick anyone's ass for me if I said the word); the way she plans adventures for her grandkids and gives so much of herself to them (and how she always invited me along); sitting on her deck and watching the sunset; singing 80s songs loudly, and badly, together; movie-watching Wednesdays and pool-playing Fridays; daily text messages full of smiley faces and K's; and her hugs.  I really miss my sister's hugs.  So I am sending one to her in this blog.  I love you, Lyla, and I hope you can feel it.