Wednesday, November 18, 2015 // The Statement
7B
Personal Statement: A reunion
by Alex Intner, Daily Arts Writer
W
hen my sister saw me through the entryway
to my apartment building, she jumped up and
down with a smile beaming across her face.
Once I opened the door, there was nothing stopping her
from running into my arms, saying “Hi,” with more joy
than I’ve heard from her voice in a long time. She was in
Michigan visiting for the weekend, and we were together
again for the first time in a few months.
Every time we’re reunited after a long time away,
there’s a moment like that one, and it happens more often
since I started school. The University is 500 miles from
home, so my sister and I are separated for most of the
year. It was a big change for us, as the past couple years
are the first time that we’ve spent significant time apart.
Without divulging too many of my sister’s personal
struggles, I will say that my sister has faced challenges
which have caused her to need accommodations
throughout her life. But this separation is the biggest
challenge we’ve faced as siblings.
During this reunion, you’d have been hard-pressed
to see my sister separated from my side. After lots of
talk about giving her an unofficial tour of campus, we
were finally walking around. A look of wonder never
left her face. She was taking everything in, watching the
students who were going about their Friday afternoons.
She looked in awe at the Angell Hall columns,
uncomfortable as we worked our way through the
Shapiro library and the crowd of stressed students, and
smiled as I pointed out the Diag we were walking on was
the same one she saw on ESPN a couple of weeks earlier.
I think the distance is tougher on her than it is on
me, so I’ve worked hard to make sure we never drift too
far apart. Weekly Facetime calls with home always end
with a few minutes of the two of us privately chatting.
Usually there’s not much to these, as she will tell me a
couple details about her school week and I’ll tell her a
couple details about mine. For us, the little details are
the most important; they allow us to catch up and never
drop the conversation that would happen if I was home.
I was worried about taking my sister into the Big
House. She’s been to professional sports games before,
but 2013 New York Mets crowds were not nearly as big
nor as loud as what she faced in the stadium. Still, she
was excited for the experience. She was a cheerleader for
her school’s basketball team, so she pumped herself up.
I could feel her nerves as she walked into the imposing
building with the massive scoreboards she’s only seen
from afar. Once we reached our seats, an overwhelmed
look never left her face. She never cried, remaining stoic
for the entire first half, but she didn’t cheer like she
planned. She clapped for a couple Michigan touchdowns,
but she never looked comfortable in the stadium.
During days like our trip to the stadium, I try to
reassure her. I’m her older brother; it’s my job to be
there when she needs me. So, I went into full comfort-
mode during the game, holding her hand, making sure
she never got too overwhelmed by the situation. Even
if I used the word “job,” this never feels like work. I’ve
done this for my entire life, and I’m going to continue
for the rest.
My sister makes this easy because of her kind heart.
I try to emulate the way she treats the people she loves
with every day. There’s no one I’d rather go to when
something is going wrong in my life and I need comfort.
Even though she might not understand the situation,
she knows what I need is a hug and a reassuring smile.
She wants the people she loves to be happy, and she will
use all the kindness she has to make that happen.
Every day when she gets home from school, she walks
in the door, shouts “boo,” and waits until I respond. I
don’t completely remember when or how this tradition
started, probably a result of me hiding and surprising
her when she got home, but it’s now a tradition. No
matter how tough a day either of us had, we always find
room for this.
I miss little moments like this the most when I’m at
school. When I’m away, there aren’t the little bits that
built our connection over the years. Yet, every text she
sends, whether it’s about something funny she watched
on “Ellen” or where my family went to dinner, is signed
“Love. Ann.” This message tells me one thing: even
if there’s 500 miles between us, the connection isn’t
broken and the love is still there.
When we had our first moment alone since my sister
arrived in Ann Arbor, she looked at me and she said “I
missed you, big brother. I’m glad I’m here.”
“Me too, Ann,” I responded, “me too.”
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE INTNER FAMILY