Average Jane

Mom, Do You Remember…?

If you want me to remember your birthday, you’re out of luck. I can’t remember names, places, or dates to save my life.

But I have vivid memories from my childhood, vivid. I remember the view from my crib, and falling off a swing when I was 2, and talking to my brother’s shrink when I was 5 and reading about baby Jessica in his waiting room while drinking hot koolaid — the red kind.

Recently these memories have started revealing themes. Certain memories have been popping into my mind more frequently, but why? There’s a memory I have of my brother walking into the house the day he dropped out of college. I’m on the couch in the living room. He appears in the hall. “What are you doing home?” I ask. “Where’s mom?” he asks in response. And that’s where the memory stops.

So I asked my mom.

“I remember that day vividly,” she said when I asked her in the car today, the heavy rain pounding on the windshield. “He called me from the Park. He was at the Potomac River. He was trying to figure out what to do.” I didn’t know that part. It’s hurts me so much to think of my brother in pain. “That was your year. You were supposed to be the focus.” That was the part I didn’t think she knew.

My brother walking in the door was a pivotal moment. It defined my craving for attention and positive reinforcement that I still struggle with today. Over the next few months I’m going to figure out what really happened to me that day and fix it.

This is where the works begins…


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