Woke Up Like This

by Amy Lea

At nine years old, I taped a color-coded extracurricular schedule on the refrigerator so she’d stop forgetting to pick me up from swimming lessons. Over the years, making lists and schedules has become my version of meditation. It calms my nerves when things start to feel out of control.

much prefer obsessing over everything that could go horribly wrong. Besides, catching grammatical errors in PowerPoints is an underrated thrill.”

“How are we supposed to choose what food to order? Which landmarks? I’m Polish and German. I want pierogies and sausages. If we didn’t have them, I’d feel jilted.” “Love when white boys get flustered when things aren’t all about them,” Nori teases.

Renner wasn’t exaggerating Uncle Larry’s collection of Star Wars memorabilia. When we stepped onto his porch, there was a mat that read WELCOME YOU ARE accompanied by a picture of Yoda’s face. Turns out, he has a second mat inside that says THE FORCE IS STRONG, WITHOUT SHOES.

“To be fair, I could only go off what Kassie told me,” I say, raising my shoulders in defense. “You really hated me all this time because Kassie lied and told you I was into someone else? Wild. All this time we could have—”

“You handled it like a fourteen-year-old boy. I mean, losing your little sister . . . I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been.” “The hardest part is thinking about what she could have been. She enjoyed life, laughed constantly at every little thing. I guess I feel obligated to fill that void. Like making my parents laugh, like she did, is the only way to make them happy again.”