This is like one of those HIGHLIGHTS Magazine double images, where you have to find what's missing in the image on the right. Tricky, I know.
FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL is a particularly awkward moment (a timeless characterization, I fear.) I remember spending that time listening to Brandy and Monica on a loop, and putting an inflatable plastic chair in my bedroom. And it seemed as though every time I turned my back to the mirror, a few dozen new pimples appeared any number of places.
As if I wasn’t clumsy enough in my skin, my brother T left for college the September after I turned 14. Our house became strangely quiet. I no longer could saunter downstairs to our finished basement and offer to make sandwiches for T’s stoned friends, or eavesdrop on his phone conversations to hear about the who-drank-what last weekend and the where-will-we-go this weekend.
I anticipated a back-to-normal Thanksgiving, filled with quarrels between my mother and brother and my own shameless attempts to impress T with that one time I smoked pot in Hannah Gold’s pool. But on the Wednesday before that fated holiday, my mother broke down in the kitchen with the freezer door still open. Even though I saw my dad that morning—he dropped me off in T’s car at the bus stop—he wouldn’t be coming home. Ever.
I can’t tell you anything about what actually happened that Thanksgiving. The spongy piece of brain that makes up my memory is divided in two: Before and After. And Thanksgiving 1999 has been lost in the endless murky chasm between those two territories. A holiday in limbo.
After that Thanksgiving I felt nauseated at the thought of impressing T. Things would never be the same (but that, of course, is a much longer story). I still don’t know what my father did that Thursday—while I drifted through one day of purgatory. I think about it often, but it’s something I never asked.
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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
Wow, Anna. What a hard story to read and harder to tell. (Of course, you do so beautifully.) Ice Storm, anyone?
Anna, you have impressed me throughout your life. For example, I was impressed when you had the courage to tell Joe Heck you wanted to marry him in kindergarten, and then told Billy Cahil, you would marry him instead because Joe, probably out of shock, said no. I was impressed when you were elected president of your class in 8th grade. I was impressed by the respect you received from your peers in high school. Furthermore, I was impressed by your perfect grades and how carefully you chose your boyfriends, and how they all were impressive young men. Additionally, I was impressed when one of your stories was published in a national journal while you were in college, and I am impressed today as much as ever reading your blog. After thanksgiving 1999 it sounds like you no longer wanted to impress me. However, you continue to do so, and this thanksgiving I am proud and thankful to have such an intelligent, ethical, noble and beautiful sister. I am also thankful for the strong emotional feelings I have experienced while reading this blog.
T
Oh my! Well it’s just like an older brother to leave the full names of my grade school crushes for the whole world to see on my blog.
And of course, my dear T, I still want to impress you and I couldn’t be happier that I already did.
Anastasia this is amazing. I can’t wait to share this with all of my sisters and mom and aunts. You should be very proud of yourself. I love you!
You both have impressed upon your grateful readers that love, under any amounts of pressure, always guides us back to where we belong. Thank you. I am so grateful for the She Said, He Said of this tale.
Anastasia,
I just woke up this morning with a slight hangover, stumbled onto f-book, saw you picture, something about sisters and then clicked on a link. Here I am, crying and about to smoke a ciggy before my first cup of coffee.
Your Terroir of Wine Buddy,
Kathleen
Anna, you write so beautifully! I enjoyed checking out the blog and cannot wait to see you soon. Everyone should be so lucky to have a sister like you!! Love…your CUZ
Anna,
I am so filled with pride. First, and most importantly because of you and second, because I was able to find this web site without the help of one of my sons. I just read a children’s book called “Old Turtle and the broken truth” by Douglas Wood. It is about the sisterhood of an old turtle and a little girl. It is about the awakening of enlightenment in this little girl…it is about life itself. I have read this book everyday since it was given to me. I am asking that you to read it too. My heart cries for you and your mother….your entire family, reading your Thanksgiving story. I have always felt that it was a terrible time to break up a family, just before the holidays, you starting high school and Teva starting college, but I could not come up with a good time. It is all best said by Gertrude Stein “There ain’t no answer. There ain’t going to be an answer. There never has been an answer. That’s the answer.” It is a broken truth. Zen philosophy tells us if you want to find something stop looking for it. I hope you will stop looking for your answer to why and then you will understand. Unless you meet an old talking turtle first. Merry Christmas! I love you. ug
Welcome Salems! This has become quite the family post, between you guys and Teva. Such wonderful heartfelt comments. It’s great to see all of you here. No old talking turtles yet, I guess I’ll just have to stop asking why–you’re right, Glen.
Feel like I’m listening in on something sacred here.
Chills.