The chemical odor of Clorox and hand sanitizer wafted through the air as I stepped toward my fifth grade classroom. It was the first day of school and my teacher was greeting students one by one as they nervously filed through the doorway. When I stood before her, her eyes widened. “You’re Sarah’s little sister!”  

I felt unsatisfied then, which was strange since I never disliked the title. “Sarah’s little sister” was just another name to me, like “Lizzie” (what my friends called me), “Jiajia” (what my grandparents called me) or “stupid idiot” (what my sister called me). Over the years, I’ve become accustomed to the title. Even if I disliked it, I had been called “Sarah’s little sister” for so long and by so many people — teachers, family members, and even fellow students —  that it just became another side of me. 

I’m a sophomore now, and my sister is a senior who’s about to leave for college. The thought of her being so far away from me physically — even if she attends a nearby college — or mentally, scares me endlessly.

When I was very young, whenever we went to a new after-school program or summer camp, I’d stick to her side (much to her annoyance) like a lost puppy. I still remember hating how the summer camp organizers separated the students by their age group. I was devastated that I was by myself, while I could tell she was grateful to finally escape my clinginess. 

The last time I recall feeling like this was before I entered grade school. After I entered middle school, for years, that feeling had remained unfamiliar. My sister and I started to constantly bicker. She was less of an older sister and more of a quick-tempered roommate, but even then, she would take care of me in some ways. She gave me advice on how to handle my teachers, proofread my essays and more. Still, I never cared to spend time with her, except when we were playing video games. It was in high school when I noticed a change in my attitude towards her presence. 

I hate how as her time in high school shortens, we return to the dynamic where I’m scared of missing her and it always feels like we’re growing apart. More than anything, I hate the fear that’s been slowly building in the back of my mind.

Over the course of many months, I’ve mused over the potential causes of my fear. At first I thought it stemmed from the worry of being alone. With my sister out of the house, I would be lonely and forced to face the expectations of my parents by myself.

Then I thought my fear came from the fact that she did so many things for me, and without her, I’d lose the benefits I gained by having her around. No one else brings me boba when they go out with their friends. No one else is so cruel to me about my failures or honest about my short-comings. No one bakes my favorite dessert, banana cake, the way she does.

When I was bored, she played Brawl Stars with me. When I sobbed over losing my gecko, she helped me search relentlessly and played a crucial role in his capture. When I failed a test, she would tell me how she failed that one too in an attempt to make me feel better, before helping me study for the next one.

Maybe that’s why when my sister leaves, I feel like I’m going to lose much more than a sister; I’ll lose a friend, a protector and a teacher. I know it’s selfish of me to fear her absence for these reasons, but at this point, I am willing to cling onto anything that reminds me of her.

Sarah has been an important figure in my life for so long that I’m scared that I won’t be “myself” when she’s gone. I’ve been “Sarah’s little sister” for all my life, but there is no “Sarah’s little sister” without Sarah.

I understand some of my fears are extreme and illogical, but that is the nature of fears; they’re impossible to control. Over the course of these past several months, I’ve come to terms with my fears. Ultimately, I am reminded of the way I used to act at summer camps where my sister and I would be separated by age. 

There was no purpose in resisting then and especially not now. It was naive to believe that I could cling to my sister forever and hope that our relationship would always stay the same. I was scared that our relationship would suffer as she went on to college.  Moreover, I was scared of being lost without her because she molded so much of who I am. However, I’ve accepted that even though time passes and we will both change and possibly grow apart, I will always be “Sarah’s little sister” and take a part of her with me wherever I go.