The weeks before became madness, with hundreds of clothes, shoes, and household items scattered across my basement. The time was coming. She was finally leaving. When the day came, I packed up my car, ready for the long somber day ahead. My sister was smiling and singing along to the music with every muscle in her face, making me believe she was going to break her jaw. The cloudy, dark day reflected the mood of everyone around campus as hundreds of teens carried luggage, with tears of joy and tears of horror in their eyes. When we reached her cozy dorm room, the long haul of unpacking began. My stomach churned with nerves after each shirt was hung in the closet. My head pounded with thoughts of  ̈ How will this be different?¨ ¨Will my life change for the next four years?̈ As the unpacking came to an end, my emotions settled and I finally felt at peace with my future as well as my sisters.

As soon as my sister turned 18 in December of 2018, I knew my life was going to change drastically. She started staying out later and leaving more often. I knew that my time of being a kid was over and that I would have to step up and act like one of the adults. My sister had many responsibilities in the house that were all passed to me as she prepared for college. I already have many jobs and expectations that have to be met at home, but the number essentially doubled every day as December quickly became July. As a 16-year-old girl, the pressure of being a good student, a good athlete, and a good family member is always on me. My mother has mentioned that as soon as the day that my sister left came and went, my life would be different as I knew it. I dreaded the horrid day as we made the hour drive to where my sister will be staying for a year without me. The sound of birds chirping around our car at a stoplight mocked my disappointment and followed along with my sister ́s clear excitement. The crisp air cut through my lungs as I sat in the passenger seat of the car fiddling with my fingernails and staring at the GPS to know how much longer until we got there. I glance to my side to see my sister gleaming with excitement while driving her old Mercury that was packed to the brim with clothes and cleaning supplies. As an hour turned into minutes, the time finally came. 

Her dorm room stared us down as we made the slow descent to the door. As you walk in the front door, you immediately see everything that the living quarters have to offer. Two small twin beds on each corner of the room are ready for the comforter that will not be washed until winter break. Two wooden dressers split the room in half and are prepared for the countless tears from homework that is sure to come. On my sister's side of the room, two small, dark holes in the wall represent the closet space. I remember thinking to myself, ̈Great, how are we going to fit all of her clothes in that thing when I can barely fit through the opening?̈ ̈ As you take a look around, a large wooden door sticks out in the corner of the room. When opened, it reveals a small bathroom with a tiny cubicle shower and a toilet that you can reach from every corner of the room. 

As we set up, my sister's excitement transformed into stress, and I became worried for not just myself, but her as well. I could only imagine what the people at college would think of my sister and whether she ́ll make new friends or not. My sister does not exactly look like the friendliest of people, with her small figure and a straight face. Her straight blonde hair and pursed lips with eyes narrowed show that she does not want to be talked to. As I looked around at some other students, I noticed the contrasting bright smiles and happy eyes. When I glance back at my sister, I can immediately see the dark cloud forming over her head, almost as if she knew what was coming in the future but she was trying everything she could to hide it. 

When she packed throughout the week to move out, she was excited yet anxious because she had to do everything for herself. Baskets upon baskets of clothing stacked high in my basement. I vividly remember my sister and my mother arguing about the number of shoes that would fit on her rack and how many dresses she had to bring just in case. I looked around and wondered how it was possible for one person to fit about 30 pairs of shoes into one basket. Chaos surrounded my family as a thick fog that encased us until late August. I quickly became terrified because although I had the house to myself more often and I only had one sibling to worry about, in my opinion, I had too many responsibilities. My mother expected me, being the eldest child in the house, to take on everything that my sister left behind as another list of chores. This quickly became an immense pressure on me to remember to do everything I was asked, keep up with my schoolwork, and make it to volleyball practice every day on time.

Although I am not the type of person that breaks easily under pressure, I do feel pressure almost 24/7 to do everything up to my mother’s standards. Pressure can take a toll on somebody my age, and one event, such as a sibling leaving for college, can spark this pressure.