My oldest sister (Wanda), her ex-husband and her youngest daughter have just moved out of Warner Robins back to Albuquerque as of 1:00 am this morning; her older daughter had already left some three weeks prior on a jet, as they had planned a few months ago. I teared up a bit after they pulled out of our driveway for the last time. From the onset, I kinda figured when they first moved here that my sister would move out of the area after a short stay (yes, for her, two years is for her a short stay compared to previous residences in Macon, Columbus, Great Falls, etc.), but I thought long and hard about what – or who – I would be missing now that they’re gone back to her ex-husband’s hometown. She did her washing at our house, she (and her kids) used our desktop when her Internet was out, she came to my college graduation, she moved stuff in and out of our shed, she brought food from Wal-Mart, she dropped me off or picked me up from school when our car was out, etc.; we gave her and her kids shelter when they moved down here, we shuttled her (and an acquaintance from church) to and from work in or near Centerville at night and in the early morning, we hosted two of her other three biological daughters (adopted by a couple in Montana in the 90s) when they came to visit in 2007, we often let her use our car until she was able to get her own used Saturn sedan, we rolled our eyes at every man she dated every week or two, and so on.

But we talked, and we talked often; we got in each others’ faces as well, but we made sure to air quite a bit of laundry when she and I were at our mother’s home. Depending on the subject, I talked more honestly and openly with her than with Mom, and vice-versa; I was more open with Wanda on sexuality (in which she has more experience), religion (in which she is more laissez-faire), and drugs (in which she’s a bit more divided, but not as utterly disdainful to the topic as Mom), while she talked to me most about my future (including whether I’d ever get a job, and in which field or industry). Ultimately, I don’t know how I’ll handle the fact that she and her family are no longer living within walking distance of the house, or that I’ll never be able to ask Wanda about Mom’s whereabouts, or that I’ll have to look outside Mom’s church and our family for….friendship and openness.

Of course, I’m trying, but I know that any further cultivation of ties with the outside world (and any effort on my part to make myself look less "using" of other acquaintances) would require me to reduce my time in Mom’s house, learn programming (and/or graphic design), find a job, get a car, get a phone, and plan to get on the highway to who-knows-where. But at 22, I’m stuck in school, and I fear moving to another area without first getting what I need out of college; programming is what I want to get under my belt before I entertain any serious thought of transferring my credits to another college or university out of state (yes, maybe UNM in Albuquerque).

So right now, I’m depressed about both what will be missing now that Wanda’s gone back and that we’ll be the only close familial kin in this part of Georgia (other than Connie and her two sons in Columbus), but I’m more depressed about not having the get-up-and-go that Wanda manages to assume when she sets her mind to moving to a completely-detached part of the continent. I’m depressed about not having taken earlier initiatives to prop myself up interdependently (if not independently) of Mom. I’m depressed about not getting to my most immediate goals earlier. I’m depressed about my own lack of maturity and my own overbearing sense of settledness.

But now, my mother is sick of her own condition, and of how she’s being treated by the various powers who govern her disability payments, and now I can no longer pine for domestic and financial stability and tranquility as a result. Things must be sold or given away, things must go up in smoke, things must be repaired, things must be paid off, things must be bought, things must be rearranged or moved.

I, or we, must be restless.