Megan’s Birthday
Today is my sister’s birthday. She’s 26 today. Normally, I would have bought her a funny card, a new Christmas ornament, and an addition to our super-secret collection that only our mom and my husband know about. Our favorite holiday season is coming up (Halloween - New Year’s… especially Christmas), normally there would be plans brewing already, shopping lists lengthening, and shopping trips planned. But, not this year, I guess.
I haven’t talked to her in a few months. Which is pretty unusual for us. My mom, sister and I have always been pretty tight. Annual weekend “girls only” trips to Vegas, weekly lunches and shopping trips and always together on holidays. There was a time when I could not imagine not talking to my mom and sister at least daily.
Perhaps it is time to discuss my sister. My mother will cringe at this statement, I’m sure. (sorry Mom, but not really, you know.) Fair warning now… this is destined to be a longer than average post. I know some people don’t care for that sort of thing, but there are a few subjects that 3-4 paragraphs just won’t accurately depict.
My sister and I were fairly normal siblings throughout most of our childhood. When our parents divorced we lived with our mother. Mom worked two (and sometimes more) jobs to support us. It certainly was not the secure, family environment that we had been used to until that point, but we made do.
My sister has always been different. Marched to the beat of a different drummer and all that. In many ways were quite opposite. She was much more of a tomboy and I was far more feminine, preferring dresses, make up, and the mall. Megan felt at home in a cute pair of jeans and a fun t-shirt from American Eagle. A size 5 on a “fat” day, Megan has thick, wavy red hair and deep brown eyes. She adorable when she gets dressed up. It’s a shame that she chooses to hide adorable features under a baseball cap 95% of the time. Of course, the last time I saw her she had the worst hair cut I have ever seen and a baseball cap would have been an improvement.
Megan was a theater major in college. Lighting and sound design are her specialty. She’s gifted, unfortunately, she needs to obtain a Master’s degree in order to do anything in her chosen field. A few years ago she obtained one of two spots in the theater program at Boston University. We were all very proud of her. She graduated with a Bachelor’s degree from the local University and we were all prepared to send her off to put the finishing polish on her education at B.U.
I should preface what happened next by explaining that my mom and sister are not strangers to Boston. My mom is a history major and obviously Boston is cornucopia of American history. They’ve spent a few vacations there and are fairly familiar and can manage to get around with few problems and almost constant, near-hysterical laughter. On more than one occasion (on more than one vacation) I’ve taken phone calls instructing me to pull up MapQuest and get them from one destination to another usually as one of them are driving to that destination and getting farther away from it by the second (thus the laughter).
My mom packed Megan’s room up, purchased loads of things to furnish and equip her new apartment. They dealt with the depression of Molly Brown, the Cocker Spaniel, who slept with Megan every night and became increasingly neurotic as the bedroom began to empty and bed disappeared. They flew into Boston and the truck with all of Megan’s things arrived the next day. Just as my mother, aka “Super Mover” planned. I did not accompany them on the trip to Boston and so I cannot give an accurate accounting of what exactly transpired, but needless to say, something shattered that night.
Megan had made arrangements for a roommate and the two planned to share an apartment in a renovated, old, Victorian house near where most of the students from the University lived during the school year. Something about the apartment freaked Megan out. Now, it could be that it was on the opposite coast and would mark the first time she would be living on her own, or it could have been a legitimate security-risk. The latter is the only reason she has provided for what followed. Shortly after touring the apartment for the first time, Megan broke down, freaked out, and had a full-blown panic attack.
Back in California I listened intently to my mother explaining the situation in hushed tones over the phone. Even at 2am, still trying to wake up, I knew that my mom should make Megan stay there. I tried to convince her of that, but whatever my mom was witnessing first-hand on her end, convinced her otherwise.
When the furniture arrived the next day, on time just as mom had planned, it was promptly sent back. I was using a travel website to find them appropriate accommodations, and mom was making phone calls to arrange plane tickets, return shipping, etc. Megan came home.
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September 19th, 2005
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Posted in: My Soapbox
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