Hating the Miles in the Middle

• My sister left this morning. She's two years older than me, and happens to be my best and oldest friend in the entire world.  Due to some unforeseen circumstances, she had to come down here last week and stay a few days with my family. She brought her two youngest children with her. The unforeseen circumstances took a little longer to deal with and they ended up bunked in our house for a whole 10 days. Despite the fact that our kind of tiny house had 7 children and 3 adults, lots of noise, leaky window ac units, a crap ton of laundry, and the occasional child-melee, it was a wonderful visit. We haven't spent 10 days together since she lived with me and Steven for a few months way back in 01.
  You see, we live just far enough apart that we only get to see each other a couple times a year. We text daily, or call. I discuss everything with her, from big news, down to what I had for breakfast yesterday and the fact that I think tomorrow I'm going to have a migraine.  There's not much about me she doesn't know and vice versa. I love her. And I hate the miles that separate us. It was so nice to be able to run over to the kitchen store with her and browse. Or go go to the pool together with all the kids. Or to just hang out, or watch t.v., together.
  We often imagine dreamily what it would be like to live closer, but life does not allow that possibility right now. We just say, "Maybe someday." and go on about our business. So, after she left this morning, and Steven looked at me with all the kindness in the world in his eyes and said, "I knew you'd be sad today, you're always sad when she goes." I had to go in the bathroom and cry. I hate crying!  But I did it anyway. And tomorrow I'll have a migraine. And Ronda already knows.