Still, most of the time the pain fades quickly and I go back to my daily life, probably because a month is not a very long time, and easy to put out of mind. Svetlana, however, was different. The five months she was here represented a substantial fraction of my eighteen years, and cannot so easily be forgotten. Mostly, I think the reason it was much harder to say goodbye to her was that it seemed much less like I had altered by life while she was here, and more like she had become a natural part of it. It was as though, for one semester, I had a sister.
Before Sveta arrived from Russia, I was almost regretting that I had agreed to host a semester exchange student. I had a tough schedule, senioritis notwithstanding, an after-school job, and an evening gym class, in addition to all the clubs and activities I was carrying over from previous years with new leadership responsibilities, and on top of all that, I had to apply to college. There probably were times when she was here that we sat around talking when I should have been studying (or sleeping), and that I went places I didn't really have time to go, but in all likelihood, I would not have used that time more productively, but instead watched television or played on the internet.
Because of our age difference, my brother and I were never very close, and I actually like him better now that I haven't seen him in a few years. Having somebody close to my age around the house that I could talk to and relate to, share joys and sorrows with, or approach when I had a serious problem or just needed a break was a new experience for me, and something that I miss a lot. I've never minded being alone, but I grew used to having the company, and I certainly notice that it is gone.
We planned a lot of activities, many of which I probably would not have done had Sveta not been here. We went to a Russian concert at the Art Museum. We went to Roscoe Village. We went on a hike. I enjoyed all of these things, of course, but they are not my fondest memories, or the things that I would choose to bring back. I remember the little things we shared, the seemingly inconsequential moments that bond people together like they never knew possible. It was Sveta trying to teach me the Russian alphabet, to no avail, the two of us singing songs from Les Miserables together, and trying to convince the other exchange student, Anna, that one of us was actually the other on AOL, that come to mind.
Even my father accepted Sveta as my sister. He mostly gets annoyed when I have exchange students because my mother won't allow me to abandon them to see him, and he doesn't want to spend time with them, it seems, because they do not speak English very well. At least, that is the only reason I can gather. But with Sveta, perhaps because her English was much better, as it had to be since she was taking American classes, my dad was the first to include her in our activities. This added to the sense that there was no disruption in my life when she arrived, that she belonged here.
Primarily, the foundation of our relationship was chance. Our cultures and backgrounds were completely different, we knew virtually nothing about each other before she arrived, and the only thing we definitely had in common was a desire to meet other people and learn about different countries. As it turned out, we shared numerous interests, like theater and reading, but like relatives we had not chosen to be friends, and a twist of fate could so easily have prevented us from ever meeting. If I had had a bad experience with a previous exchange student, if my mother had decided a semester was too long and I was going to be too busy, if I had been absent the day the forms were passed out in history class, or too distracted to remember later, Sveta and I might never have met. She would still have come, and what experience she would have had is something I will leave to her to ponder.
I knew, of course, that Sveta would leave after her semester, which to her was abroad, was over, and that she would return to her "real" home in Russia. I also knew that she would want to return because she missed her family and friends there and everything she was used to, which is an experience I have had travelling as well, that the things I miss most are my bed and American food and people who actually speak English. Coming here was a very significant event for Sveta, but that also meant that it disrupted her life, and even though she was sad to leave, she was also glad to get things back to normal. I had no such experience, and when she was gone there was a void in my life that has not yet been filled.
For Christmas, I gave Sveta half of one of those tacky, childish best friend necklaces, because they don't seem to make them for adults, but it seemed to fit so well. I wear it everyday, as a symbol of what is in my heart, that somewhere, somehow, we are still linked, even though I may never see her again. I sometimes wonder whether Sveta felt the same way, but my questions were answered when I returned home from the airport, and managed to dry my eyes well enough to read the note she had left me. "Hello, Melissa! I could start writing something like "it has been great knowing you and I really enjoyed staying with you." Allright, it's true. But should I write this "boring" information to you? We are sisters, don't you think? I can say about "knowing and enjoying" to everybody. But I just want to say that I'm so glad I met you (it's true!) and thanks a lot for your friendship and being my sister. Hope (greatly hope!) you'll come to Russia and see me again. Sisters should meet often."
When the pain comes, like all the other times, only ten times as much, I really have to wonder whether it was worth it. My life would have been easier if chance had prevented us from meeting. I would have missed out on that experience, sure, but also on the pain of saying goodbye, of promising to visit when I know I never will, of slowly forgetting, but then seeing a reminder that causes all the pain to come flooding back. But every time I question it there is only answer that comes to mind. Of course I was better off having met Sveta. Of course it was worth it. She's my sister.
