Until then,
Josh
Telling A Sister Some Truths
Lily, Lincoln, December 2024
Sitting behind the wheel of Nona’s giant sedan invariably leaves me feeling like a child pretending to be old enough to drive. I have to sit on a throw pillow to see properly over the hood of her car. I’m not a small woman, by any standard. Although I am shorter than most in my family. Nona sent me to pick up Roselyn, David, and Emunah from the airport, and I’m so excited to see them. Idling in the cell lot, I’m waiting to hear when they have collected their bags.
This week that I’ve spent in Nebraska has been so pleasant. It has been nearly four months since my dramatic exit from Sunday night dating and my previous routine with my mother. After texting that I wanted to check in and say hello and hear how she is, we finally spoke. Since then, I have talked to her over the phone a few times. These conversations have been brief, however, since I’ve set clear boundaries on topics I’m comfortable discussing with her. Not to mention, I’d said I didn’t want to rehash everything that happened in September. Our last conversation lasted about a minute and a half. I wish I could say our relationship is improved, but it only feels like I’ve put an ice pack on a bullet wound. While it was reassuring to hear her voice, it was tense—more than anything.
Yesterday, Nona insisted on taking me shopping, bought me three new dresses, had her hairdresser give me some treatment to keep my curls smooth, and took me to get my nails done. What I’ve loved the most, though, is just being around her energy. She is so chill and calm—she knows how to help me settle down without making me feel bad for getting worked up. She hasn’t asked me anymore about Dr. Kellerman. Most importantly, she can tell when my blood sugar is about to run low or when I am done being around people. She gets me and sees me more clearly than I can see myself. I feel that while I try to make myself better, she meets me where I am and helps me be the best version of myself.
I had a session with Monica today before I drove to the airport and raised the possibility of relocating to Nebraska. The energy in Lincoln is enough of a big city vibe—with the University and everything—but without all the angst I feel at home. It’s just calmer. People are quieter and kinder. It’s less rushed and certainly less self-important than D.C. can be.
When I was young, more than anything, I wanted to move out here and start my life over. Now, it’s occurred to me that I can do that. I would miss Abbie, Roselyn, and especially Emunah. But I don’t like my job. I mean, I love being a PA. But hospital and emergency medicine, especially now that we have to do all this observation management—I could walk away from that without any regrets. As a PA, I can go into anything. I wouldn’t want to treat kids, but other than that, I can shift gears and start over. My thoughts are interrupted by a notification on my phone.
Roselyn
hey! We got the bags—heading out to the curb now
Me
kk, pulling up in a big blue sedan
Getting the bags and everyone into the car without having a panic attack is a whole thing. David kept soothing my nerves by reassuring me that everyone else was in the same boat. Finally, after less than a few minutes, which felt like a thousand hours, we were off.
“How was the flight?” I asked, trying to calm myself more than anything.
Roselyn answered, “A bit rocky at the end, but overall, it was fine. How is being at Nona’s?” She hasn’t been here in years, just like I hadn’t been before this fall.
“It’s amazing. She’s spoiling me. And she’s eager to meet Emunah.” Could Roselyn be nervous? I know it will be fine, so I decided not to ask her in front of her daughter; it wouldn’t help and could set Em’s anxiety off.
On the way to the house, we kept the conversation light. Just as we’re pulling into the driveway, the snow starts to fall. Emunah jumps out of the car excitedly to see the snow, while I pull into the big garage. Right in front of where I parked the car, there is a giant dollhouse that belonged to my mother and her sisters when they were children. I remember playing with it when I was a girl, and how magical it seemed.
“Is that Nona Rose’s doll house?” Emunah asked, her eyes wide.
“It sure is,” I smiled down at her while Ros and David unloaded the car. “Do you want me to ask Nona Rose if we can bring it inside?”
She turned to me, any previous nerves having left her face, now lit up with anticipation. “Yes, please! Eema, do you see this dollhouse?”
“I do. Help me bring your bag inside so we can find your room.” Ros silently mouths a ‘thank you’ to me over her daughter’s head. David and Emunah moved inside ahead of us while Ros turned back toward me. “The plane ride was rough. She was so anxious she started vomiting.” Then, my sister, who always sees the bright side of everything, burst into tears.
“Hey, Roselyn, she seems better already. It’s okay. Right now, she’s happy to be here.” I tentatively stepped forward and put my arms around her. I’ve never enjoyed hugs, but Roselyn and I are closer than ever, and I can feel her heart breaking for her daughter. Despite myself, I keep my arms around her. It is stiff and probably the worst hug she’s ever had, but I do it. She sniffled onto my shoulder and lifted her arms around my waist, hugging me back briefly.
“You hugged me.” Stepping back, she’s smiling at me through her tears.
“Don’t get used to it.” I step further away, grinning. “She’s gonna be okay, you know. You’re a great mother. And she’s already getting the help she needs. I mean, look at how well I’m doing, and I’ve only been in therapy for the last few months.”
Roselyn looks confused. “You started therapy in college.”
“About that… I wasn’t entirely truthful with my therapist until last summer.” I take a beat. “Not now, but there are some things I should probably tell you. About me. Maybe we can go for a walk later. Let’s get you all settled.”
We head inside with the rest of their luggage when Roselyn turns to me. “I’m nervous. I mean, I’ve talked to Rose a few times on the phone before we came, but how is it?”
“I meant what I said before. Let me put it this way. I have felt so at peace here that I’m thinking of moving in.”
We stop outside their guest room.
