hyperventilating and disintegrating into a puddle

My sister just left. My first visitor in my new digs. We waved from the curb, Ellie and Owen ran down the street after them trotting happily, bidding them adieu until next time. Dylan couldn’t. He had stoically said his goodbyes to his cousin (read: soulmate) inside. He couldn’t bear to watch them drive away. They were here for three days, four nights. Not nearly long enough. Now four days stretch out before us until our next sister/cousin (again, soulmate)/brother-in-law visit occurs.

I miss my sisters, I have four (one is a sister-in-law, but that is merely a technicality). I miss my niece, who is 21 and full of all of the angst and enthusiasm that comes with being 21. I miss my mom being next door. I miss her sneaking into my house while I'm at work to water my plants or put the clean dishes away, not because I didn’t want to do it (honestly, I didn’t, but still…) but because it’s just so remarkable to have someone who will. Someone who knows that your life is so insane right at that moment that you won't even notice that she's done it. I miss my nephews who think I’m pretty cool because I can text message and because I have the Clash and the Red Hot Chili Peppers on my iPod. I miss my dad for reasons that can’t be put into words, they don’t fit in an arial 8 point font.

When I filled out the first of the forms for school here in California, I buzzed through them as usual, name, address, phone number, date of birth, emergency contact…. That’s where I got stuck, where a lump formed in my throat that couldn’t be swallowed or ahem’d away. In Colorado, I had more emergency contacts than anyone I knew, I had to flip the forms over and use the back to list them all, because what if they couldn’t reach the first four? I had parents, sisters, neighbors and friends to list. I happily agreed to be the emergency contact for friends who had no family around, and I admit, I felt a bit smug about my extensive support network.

Ok, so here I am in California, and I have no one to list. I don’t know a soul in this city of more than a million people. My closest acquaintance is the cashier who works Monday-Thursday afternoons at Nordstrom Rack. I felt like I had a vague connection with Dolores, the secretary at the elementary school. But really, I couldn’t list “Nordstrom Rack, cashier working register 3”, could I? And I was pretty sure Dolores would think it a pretty stalker-y move to list her as my emergency contact.

Ohmygod, I had to just write something down before I hyperventilated or disintegrated into a puddle. In the end, I fell back on my sisters and my mom. I scrawled their names and phone numbers on the form and hoped no one looked at it and asked “Where is this area code?” To which I would have to explain that it is an out-of-state relative and that I have no one local who I can list. I decided that at least they could make any emergency decisions over the phone until I could be reached.

Now, don’t misunderstand, I know I’ve done the right thing. I am more peaceful here and now than I have been in years. I feel surer of myself, more connected to my children, more in control and less stressed than I can remember. But I miss my sisters. And my mom. I miss my Dad and my brother. I miss my sweet niece and my hormone-charged teenage nephews.