Hi world! Chris here. Just wanted to say this post is dedicated to my sister Erin as a late (very late because her birthday was last month) birthday “gift.” It’s also just a chance to say thank you for taking time out of her life to spend a whole week traveling with me. She’s amazing and she’s one of the reasons I am who I am today. I hope this essay can somewhat describe how much she means to me and the rest of our family.

Not All Who Wander are Ruckers (But We Are)

When I was younger, it was a family tradition to watch the entire Lord of the Rings series every summer. My siblings and I would spend hours reenacting our favorite scenes, each more dramatic and fantastic than the last. My brother Jacob was the only male and by far the strongest of us all, so he played Gimli. My sister, Rae, played Legolas with her flowing blonde hair. The eldest of our group, my sister Erin, played both Eowyn and Arwen with all the grace and elegance of the actresses she imitated. I stood in wherever I was needed as I didn’t exactly fit one role. Usually I played Frodo, or another hobbit because I was both the youngest and shortest. While they may seem trivial memories to others, they are moments I have never forgotten. Because of my siblings and their games, I grew up in a world of hobbits, elves, and dwarves; a world it seemed JRR Tolkien had created just for me.

I can remember sitting on Erin’s bed as she decorated her desk chair. She was using silver, sparkly paint to write all her favorite quotes on the poor, dilapidated piece of furniture. With every stroke it seemed a little bit of life was returning to that seat. I remember reading them as she wrote, each curly letter spreading over the dark wood into something beautiful. She saved the best for last, painting it where it would be visible to the rest of the room. It was her favorite and in marking it as so, she unknowingly made it my favorite too. Seeing it there, shimmering as it dried, made it easy to believe in magic.

Originating from one of the most talented and revered authors of the 20^th century, this quote rings with the magic of hundreds of other worlds and hundreds of other people. Even though JRR Tolkien is sometimes ridiculed for his superfluous use of description, he used no excess flare when he wrote the words not all those who wander are lost. But despite his fame and fortune, those words meant more coming from my sister than they ever did from him.

The four of us were very close while we were young. We chased dreams of fireflies and shooting stars together. Daring hikes through the woods could not be taken without at least one companion. They were traditions, keeping us together like vows on a wedding day. If one of us wandered, we were sure to follow so none of us could get lost. We thought this would last forever, or at least I know I did. I couldn’t image there being a day when I couldn’t wander into Rae’s room to play an intense game concocted by her random imagination, or when I couldn’t ask Erin for help with clothes or boys. I definitely didn’t consider the fact that Jacob might not be my movie buddy anymore, or that I’d have to take up playing video games myself because he wouldn’t be there to play them for me. When college came along and separated us, I was shocked to see my fictional world of my family and my best friends came apart so easily.

Erin left first, to learn how to teach other young kids about home economics. She had always been the most motherly and this made sense for her.

Rae was the second to leave. She wanted to chase her horses and find her passion there with the creatures just as wild as she was.

Jacob left me last. He joined the ROTC on his path to be in the army and stand up for our freedom. He was always our warrior and now he’d be a warrior for our nation.

I watched each of my siblings wander, praying that they’d never be lost. However, when left with the words not all it can be known that some do lose their way on the journeys they take alone. Rae stumbled and fell enough to turn around and come back home where we could keep her safe. She needed time to find her way again, so she could try the world one more time.

Erin on the other hand, needed no time to wait. She found her way to a husband and happiness in just four years. We were happy too, for her and for him. But still, some part of us mourned because she would once again be the first to leave us behind.

When my sister moved out, her chair was one of the last things left in her room. I can remember sitting on her bed again, this time just trying to catch the wi-fi signal so I could use my computer. Sometimes, I would look over and notice that chair, all alone in the barren little room. Erin was gone, and with her went all her treasures and all her favorite possessions to help fill her new house and her new marriage. And yet, she’d left her chair. The chair I’d watched her craft over for hours, painting and sewing a pretty cushion. Every day I walked by, our quote stared at me. It was cracked and faded now, blotting out my childish idea that magic might exist in a world as lonesome as ours. With my own college experience looming ahead of me, it seemed that Erin had taken it with her, leaving me nothing but her broken chair.

To fill the void I’d been left with, I took to the comfort of my books. I had always been an avid reader, but this brought it to an impressive peak. There were no words my eyes didn’t want to devour. I adored every crisp page of every story and every tale. Whether it portrayed a daring quest or exhilarating battle, it became a romance for me as I fell in love with each and every character and the plot line they followed.

I began to see my own life as a book I had to write. Whatever happened was ultimately up to me. I had no choice in the departure of my siblings, but I would have one in mine. The advice to follow my heart lead me in one clear direction as it lay between the crumbled pages of an old worn out book. I would follow the dream my siblings gave me of magic and imagination to write my own stories. Knowing this made me realize the truth.

Our chair was not broken. It never really had been. It still held me when I sat down, and I didn’t have to see the words to remember what they said or what they meant to me. They reminded me of Erin, and of Rae and Jacob. My fearless leaders, charging headfirst into the unknown to create a path for me to follow. I had never truly been alone as a child, not with them around. They had left me first, to show me it would be okay. If I messed up and fell over and over, that didn’t mean I was lost. If I never came back and just kept going, well that still didn’t mean I was lost. I knew because they told me in a quote painted silver on the back of an old beat up chair.

As our lives changed, our house shifted with us. It was rearranged and decorated to each passing whim and our furniture was made sure to match. When the time came that an old, painted chair no matter matched the theme of Erin’s old room, someone finally removed it. Suddenly it felt wrong to walk though that room and not see my favorite silver words. It was as if someone had moved out again.

When I found a sign that read the same, I bought it immediately. I wanted our quote to always be close, reminding me of the world out there that I hadn’t discovered yet. I know I won’t run into dwarves or elves or even hobbits, but I still think that there’s some magic out there for me to find. I just have to be brave and leave on my own. College was my first step. Somewhere far enough away that I could wander, but close enough to home that I would never be lost.

Happy Thirtieth Erin! Lots of love!

PSA: She also has a blog called Pinch of Ginger and you should check it out.