My sister moved to New Mexico last week.

Yesterday I drove past The Brewery in downtown L.A.. She lived there when she first moved to the city five years ago.

It was a strange feeling, driving past it. It's like she just got here and already she's gone. When she left I told her that if it doesn't work out with her boyfriend and if Drew won't move away for medical school we should share an apartment again. Which she agreed to in that awkward let's-keep-in-touch kind of way. It's ironic that I'm feeling this way now, because when my mom told me Amanda was moving to L.A. I was nervous that she would be a burden. Now I'm the needy one. How'd that happen?

I see her getting older and changing and it makes me scared for her and for myself. I had a nightmare last week that she got lost taking someone to the airport and ended up homeless on the streets. It seems funny now, but it was terrifying. I feel like she's this vulnerable kid who's in constant danger -- like I have to protect her. And I'm sure that says more about me than it does about her because she's always fine.

I wish she were still here, though. She told me weeks ago that she was moving, but it always seemed like some future plan that might fall through. And then suddenly everything was happening too quickly and I had no choice but to just accept that she wasn't going to change her mind. It's crazy, I know. We hadn't even seen each other that much this year. Boyfriends and school and work. But knowing she was there and now knowing she's not -- it changes everything.

I've been in denial the past few days, I think. But then on Monday we talked on the phone and she mentioned that it was dark in Taos. Standing in the middle of my sun-filled apartment I suddenly felt so lonesome. It's not right for her to be that far away from me.