was. was jill. before my mother gave her up for adoption so many years ago, before she'd even met my father, or thought of any of us at all, her name was jill. jill was the first of 4 dynamic personalities that my mother would bring forth from her womb.
every year, my mother would lock herself in her room and cry. "it's her birthday today." jill's birthday, one of the many days i am certian that my mother thought about this lost little girl, celebrated with a curtian of tears. there have been curtians of tears, and little conversation.
checking messages, i listen. 16 new, after 5 days out of town. 4 from my mother, "call me." that standard exchange, nothing more. only, there is more. something desparate and urgent which is echoed in the voices of my sister and aunt. "call us." they are chanting there, leaving no clues.
my thoughts go first to my son, with his father the past few days. i have been dreaming in the east coast, making revolution and love. someone would have told me immediately somehow.... i move on. grandparents. brother. i think of everyone i know. something has happened. [what is it? won't somebody tell me what is happening?]my mother's phone goes to voicemail. i leave a hasty message and pace through the kitchen before calling my sister.
what is happening? "call mom."
we found her. what? who did we find? she found me. what are you saying?
that jill is alive and well.
i met her.
and she knows you.
breathing stops. what is happening here? the words i cannot find swirl in my head as i choke. choke. choke. her name is emily now, and she's your sister. you know her.
so, i do know her, though not well. i am fighting mental lions as i wait for the inevitable. this one's for emily, wherever i may find her.
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