A New Beginning

When I was thirteen years old we moved from Maryland to New York. That day my mother rushed around, making sure everything in the van was packed up neatly, that everyone had used the bathroom, that each and everything had been collected or left on purpose. It was late afternoon when she felt satisfied, and without a backward glance she walked down the long hall and stairwell that lead into out apartment; the stairwell was at last leading us out. At the bottom of those steps, lingering near the stoop in the late sunshine, stood my brothers, Justin and Randy. I was holding a teddy bear I had gotten for my ninth birthday, one I had meant to leave behind for them, but then forgot to let go of. I hugged each one goodbye, got in the car, and haven't been back since.

In college I stayed with a friend for spring break, near the Maryland border, and we drove straight through Hagerstown, right by Frederick. The sense of Deja Vu was overwhelming. Somewhere in one of those two cities, my brothers were living their lives. It was a strange thought.

Although Facebook, and before that Myspace, have been around for quite a while, I never contacted my brothers through either site. I was afraid I didn't know what to say. I felt guilty, and guilt goes a long way toward silence. And so the wall remained, until I decided to break it, on October 24. I didn't tell anyone that I had decided to find Randy and Justin again on facebook, and I certainly didn't tell anyone that I'd sent Randy a message and an apology.

After a month without a reply I figured I wasn't going to get one. My twin sister, Melissa, had tried to contact him when we were in high school and that hadn't gone well, so I thought maybe he didn't want anything to do with any of us. So imagine my surprise, dear imaginary reader, when two days ago Dec. 10, I got a message in response. Of course, I didn't reply immediately. I wasn't sure what to do, what to say, if I was ready to speak to him again, and anyone else that might include me speaking to. I was afraid, essentially, of reopening a past that I had put a firm lid on. That lid may have a peep hole, but it's still there. The emotional response I had was one I didn't expect. I was happy, but I was also incredibly sad, and learned that there was still a little anger left in my heart. What was I going to do? It was a big question. Should I allow myself to be too sad and scared to respond? Should I let myself feel that anger again?

Here's what I decided: fuck that anger. That fear can go jump in a hole and stay there. If there's one thing I don't want to lose now, amid the loss of friends and close relationships, it's the opportunity to get to know a part of my family that I so nearly lost completely.