I remember when I first heard from my parents that they were selling the house. We were moving to a bigger house because my mom was pregnant with my youngest brother Shane. It was in the summer that they told me. My mom came home and sent our nanny Jasmine home. As she finished up dinner my dad came home, and they told all of us they had to tell us something.

We all took it a bit differently. I was a bit of a neat freak, really into reorganizing my room and the kitchen cabinets and such. I thought it would be fun to be in a new place. Plus, we were each getting our own rooms. I was sharing my room with my little sister Nora and was eager for more privacy. She was petrified by the thought of sleeping alone in her own room, and of leaving her neighbor friends.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I learned how far we were moving and that Jasmine wouldn’t be our nanny anymore. I was inconsolable. She’d been watching us since I was 3 years old and it was just me and my older sister Jenny. I didn’t have many friends, and Jasmine was the main person I liked to talk to. I felt like she knew me better than my own parents. My sisters were frequently with their friends over summer break, so Jasmine and I had been building a garden in the backyard.

Our move date was set for two weeks before school started. Jasmine and I made a bucket list of all the things we’d do before I moved. We had about 3 weeks. We went swimming at the lake, ate Oreos at the playground by my house, had a Disney movie marathon, blackberry picking, made stained glass cookies, took my red flyer wagon to the grocery store and filled it up with boxes of donuts that we taste tested at the park. It was three weeks of bliss, but every day she went home I’d go to my room and panic about our diminishing time.

Moving day came and went. I decorated my new room. I started a new garden in the backyard. I would write letters to Jasmine and we kept up with it for a couple months, but they became infrequent and I convinced myself she didn’t want to hear from me anymore. I felt jealous thinking about whatever new family got her next.

Now I’m here, sitting in a house I share with three other girls I go to college with. I still have a box of my letters and photos and other keepsakes from Jasmine under my bed. I think about her often. I felt hurt that she never came to visit our new home, and it still stings to this day. Was it always just about the money? Did I mean anything to her? Did she ever think about me? I have dreams where I see her again on the street and she hugs me and tells me how much she’s missed me. She apologizes for the years of silence and tells me she thinks of me like her sister. She gives me a long monologue about how much she cares about me. Then I wake up and feel a bit empty knowing I’ll never get that.