I used to watch you both from down the hallway,

feet dangling off the edge of my bed,

too small to keep up but always trying.

You laughed about things I didn’t understand,

swapped secrets behind closed doors,

and I would press my ear against the wall,

hoping to catch a glimpse of the worlds you lived in,

the worlds I wasn’t old enough to join.

I remember how you used to let me sit in your rooms,

watching as you swiped on eyeliner,

tried on new outfits,

music playing low in the background.

I would sit there, pretending not to care,

but inside, I was memorizing every move,

waiting for the day when I could wear shoes like yours,

when I could fill my own space

with the same kind of light you carried so effortlessly.

I watched you learn how to drive—

saw you grip the wheel with nervous hands,

windows rolled down, hair whipping in the wind.

You looked so grown up then,

so free in a way that made me ache to follow.

I used to sit in the back seat,

imagining the day it would be me up front,

my own hands steering,

the same stretch of road rolling out ahead.

I counted the years, wishing them away,

because I just wanted to catch up,

to be where you were,

to know the things you knew.

When you went off to college,

I remember the mornings before you left—

the suitcases open on the floor,

clothes spilling out,

the excitement mixed with a kind of sadness in the air.

I stood in the doorway,

watching as you packed up pieces of home

and carried them with you.

It felt like you were going somewhere so far away,

to a place I could only dream about.

I’d sit on your empty bed,

thinking about all the stories you’d bring back,

wondering how long it would be

until I’d have my own.

I saw you come home for breaks,

full of stories, new friends,

your face glowing with something different—

a kind of freedom I couldn’t quite grasp.

You were living the life I’d imagined,

and I sat there, listening,

trying to imagine what it would be like

to walk in those shoes.

I traced your steps, mapped out my own path,

dreaming of the day when I’d be where you were.

And now, somehow, I’m here—

walking through the same milestones

I watched you pass so long ago.

I grip the same car keys,

feel the same nervous excitement,

standing in the same rooms

where you once stood,

doing the things I only dreamed of.

I feel like I’m chasing your shadows,

but also carving my own.

The little sister who used to watch from afar

is finally stepping into her own world,

and yet, I still feel you with me,

guiding me, even when you’re not there.

I think back to all those moments—

the late nights, the whispered conversations,

the times I tried to tag along,

always wanting to be part of your world.

And now, as I reach the places you’ve already been,

I realize that growing up isn’t just about following you—

it’s about becoming who I was meant to be,

but always with pieces of you woven in.

Because I was never just watching you grow—

I was growing too,

in every moment,

right beside you.