Again, I returned. But usually there is no one waiting for me in the park. Cayla is here today. Drawn up tall and slightly pinched, she stands by the stone fountain.
Each morning that she failed to appear seems not to have taken the same toll on her as it has me. Fur shawls line her shoulders and expensive leather boots adorn her feet. Grinning at last, her face softens immensely.
How much I missed her! In return for my loneliness, however, she rarely wrote, didn’t visit - Cayla was too busy for her little sister. Just too far away, the family was out of sight, out of mind.
Kind to all, but loyal to almost none, Cayla floated through life on the wings of her imagination. Likely she had just returned from her new job at the local book store. Most of her time she spent reading about distant lands and strange worlds, her only constant interest. Now that she had just gotten a different job, she was working in town, but before that Cayla had been in Maine, New York City, Delaware, Virginia…
Ominous clouds paraded across the horizon as we conversed, the sun barely peeking through. Perpetually changing, the weather reminded me of my relationship with my sister.
Quit! I felt like calling out to her. Resignation from her work was not what I truly wanted, however. Standing there, still alone on this chilly morning, I knew what I wished for. Time. Unanimously, the whole world screams that they want more time. We desire to be together, to relax while watching the rest of the world.

Victory would be for Cayla to come home to us. Why wouldn’t she? Xenophile that she was, we would never be captivating enough for her. Yes, she sought adventure – and if she didn’t find it, she created it. Zest was her purpose in life – and even though she never found it in me, she returned; and even though she never stayed long, having her here was better.