My relationship with Sakura had taken a turn for the better these past few years. At each reunion, usually at Christmas, we always seemed to find new avenues through which we could relate as siblings. I suppose we had both matured to the point where we could no longer afford to take each other for granted anymore. I remember a road trip we took to Wildwood, NJ when I was going through a particularly difficult time in 1998. While I was desperately trying to reconcile my own identity and insecurities, Sakura gently welcomed me without preaching or judgment and treated me to a landscape of abandoned amusement parks along the New Jersey shore. It was exactly the kind of relief that I needed and I appreciated it greatly.

I moved back to Toronto last fall and for the first time since Sakura left home for college we spent time together on a regular basis. The past 10 months or so will always be precious to me and my parents. It's not like we did anything special but it is the little things of daily existence that will always remain in my memories -- her playful glee when I gave her a hockey stick for Christmas; watching her cucumbers grow; biking to the lakeshore to watch fireworks; groaning in ecstasy over Chinese dumplings; commiserating about her job search. But I especially wanted to share with you my recollections from the last weekend I spent with my sister as it will be ingrained in my memory forever.

On the weekend of July 9th, I helped Sakura move to Oberlin. She was wearing her favorite brown T-shirt and I particularly remember her gleaming smile after she came out of U.S. customs unscathed. Upon arriving in Oberlin, we immediately proceeded in a mad rush to transfer mountains of boxes into her apartment. Amid the day’s hectic pace, there was a brief moment when we sat on her covered porch overlooking the shady front yard half exhausted but sharing a sense of exhilaration that only comes from moving to a new town. In Oberlin, fireflies come out in the early evening hovering at about knee height above the grass. We sat on the porch marveling at this sight in silence, sipping water and smoking cigarettes.

Throughout that weekend, Sakura exuded a kind of giddiness that I had never seen in her before. Almost like a child, she pointed things out as if to seek my approval. She said things like "Don't you love the trees here?", "I like smoking on this deck!" or "I like the fact that the town water tower is adjacent to my apartment so I have a landmark to follow if I ever get lost". As if she needed my approval. She deserved everything in my opinion. All the years of frustration and hard work had finally come to this moment. Sakura had arrived and I was truly happy and truly proud of my sister. So, like a good brother, I played along. "Yes, Sakura, the trees here are indeed beautiful", "Yes, Sakura, it is marvelous to finally have a place of one's own" and "No, Sakura, you'll never get lost in such a small town".

On Sunday, we had brunch and assembled some of her IKEA furniture as a condition for having ice cream. Later, she drove me to the airport. I hugged her before disappearing into the terminal.

In closing, I wrote a haiku poem thinking about that weekend: