Mental Musings from
The Marginatrix
...because sometimes I just need to share my thoughts.
It was summertime on Long Island. The days were long and excitement was high. One morning, my brother and I awoke to Grandma in the kitchen (at some point during the night, my parents had called her to come stay with us) and the news that my parents had finally gone to the hospital. The baby was on its way. We were so excited.
We went running to a friend’s house to share the good news, and one of us had the brilliant idea to create a “welcome home” banner. Unfortunately, we didn't have the necessary supplies so we opted to create individual cards instead. We spent the day working on it, singing songs from The Carpenters and The Monkees. As my brother recalls, for reasons that are now unclear, we had an old metal drink cart that was missing the glass shelving that we thought would make a great display. We hung the cards over the edges of the cart and left the cart in a prominent location on the front porch. We were “On Top of the World.” When at last my parents returned home, the little bundle of blankets clutched tightly in my mother’s arms, we couldn’t wait to see the newest addition to our family. Together, we’d chosen her name: Alison Carin. She was a tiny little thing, and it seemed crazy that she was wrapped in blankets on such a warm day in late June. Also, she was sleeping. The following days were dominated by whispers and reminders to be quiet. The baby was sleeping. Thank goodness we could go outside to play, though there was to be no screaming in the backyard, a favorite pastime of ours. We crept around the house, terrified of waking the wailing terror. We could watch her sleeping as long as we didn’t make a peep while gazing at her. It was amazing how peaceful and angelic she looked when her eyes were closed. The truth is, my brother and I were disappointed. We had wanted a new sibling because we wanted a new playmate We hadn’t understood that we wouldn’t be able to play with a baby. At nine and seven years old, we had imagined a new friend joining our group. As it turned out, that nine-year difference between us meant that I was more often a caretaker than a playmate. By the time she reached the age where she might want to play with us, I was far too old to want to play with a little kid like her. She became the annoying younger sister that I’d never envisioned she could be. As a teenager, most of my time was spent trying to avoid detection by the family tattle-tale tag-along. I swore I would never have children myself and kindly blamed her for my decision. The most commonly yelled refrain in our home was, “Because of you, I’m never having children!” When I was eighteen years old, my best friend and I traveled from Connecticut to California as our self-financed reward for graduation. One of the highlights of our trip was visiting Disneyland, where I purchased a Mickey Mouse shirt for my sister. As it turned out, it matched the one I had purchased for myself. I didn’t think anything of it until I presented her with her gift and the fact that it matched mine was its best feature, in her mind anyway. One day, I was standing outside talking to a friend, wearing my Disney sweatshirt. My sister came outside to see what I was doing because, of course, she did. As soon as she got close enough to see what I was wearing, she went racing back into the house to don her own. She came running back outside moments later, a radiant smile on her face, boasting, “Now we match.” I was so embarrassed as I realized my mistake. Never buy matching clothes with your sister. Luckily, I eventually reached the age where I changed my mind about having children. My sister and I have gotten close, becoming friends and sometimes playmates, as age has stripped away the differences that were so immense when we were younger. But age has not changed one thing. She has continued to make it her life’s mission to annoy me. In fact, several years ago, completely by coincidence, we purchased the same dress and happened to wear it to the same event. She thought it was hysterical. On a subsequent occasion, I mentioned that I would be wearing that dress so she could avoid wearing it at the same time. Naturally, that is exactly what she wore that day. Once an annoying little sister, always an annoying little sister. 2020-04-22
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My brother is two years younger than me. As children, we shared the bedroom adjacent to the kitchen. My bed was on the exterior wall; a window stood between his bed and mine. We often drifted to sleep to the sound of my father whistling while he emptied the dishwasher in the next room. One night, I was woken by the sound of the window next to me being opened. I opened my eyes to find the devil attempting to steal my brother. That was not something I would allow. I jumped from my bed and grabbed my brother’s arm. The devil was insistent. He began to climb from the window, holding onto my brother’s other arm. I could hear my father in the kitchen and began to yell for help, but he couldn’t hear me. The devil and I, we battled for possession of my brother, until finally, he gave up and left empty-handed. We went back to sleep. Oddly, the following morning, my brother had no recollection of the event which very nearly changed his life. My father claimed he had not heard me call out for help. The important thing is, I saved my brother without any help, and as a result, his soul belongs to me. 2020-04-15 |
Elizabeth J. Connor
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