Timeline: Nine

("One Through Six" here. "Seven and Eight" here.) 

1991, age nine
My mom and dad sit us down, to tell us we're moving to Minnesota where my dad has gotten a job as the Twin Cities Marathon director. I call my best friend MacKay, as soon as I hear the news. My parents' friends throw us a going-away party out at Lake Merced and we dance and eat while we're buzzing with excited energy. My dad has to leave early for Minneapolis while we stay behind to sell the house and finish the school year. We'll join him in June, just a few short months away. We take him to the airport for a tearful but happy goodbye. For a few weeks, we regularly talk with him and during one call I ask him to tell me the name of the elementary school I'll attend. He can't think of it—he's scattered and distant—and my stomach drops although I'm not sure why. The calls eventually become less frequent, and my mom and sister become quieter. We've fixed up our little blue house. My mom has quit her job. We have it all planned.

I walk up the stairs one night, in early June, confused to find my sister cutting up pictures of my dad while sitting on the top step. Later my mom sits us down to tell us we're not moving to Minnesota, our dad isn't moving back to California, we're staying put for a while but everything—just everything—is changing. I cry and cry and cry as I bury my face in my mom's lap. I cry tears I can still feel. My dad calls the next day to ask if my mom has told us the news. Out of all the decisions my dad has ever made, and he's made some head-scratchers, this one ranks as the most cowardly, one of very few I'll never be able to forgive—the decision to let my mom handle this alone, the decision to sweep in the next day with platitudes, the decision to not get on a plane and tell his daughters face-to-face that he has left us.

I won't see my father for the rest of the year.

Despite a lot of pain, despite reality stripping away all the idealistic views I once held, we laugh a lot this year. We stay up late, talking around the dining-room table. Rachel and I dance for my mother. I begin going to an after-school program where I meet a boy who becomes my "after-school best friend" and I remember, precisely, what he looked like. We play tether ball on the playground for hours together.

Christmas rolls around and my mom fills the room with gifts, overcompensating a little, I know, but loving us so much, always loving us with such a fierceness that she'd do anything—break the hardest news, remake holiday memories, laugh with us when it's nearly impossible—to make everything OK.

It was the hardest year of my life. But, somehow—as she always, always does—my mother made it OK.

Comments

[Heather B.]

I always find it odd (for myself at least) to think about when my father left. Especially since as an adult it is really hard not to think "WTF? Who the hell does that?"

Anyway, your year nine reminds me of my year four. This was a really good one. I hope in year 10, you get a pony or a trip to Disneyworld.

[Raven]

*HUG*

You have a great mom honey.

[Jess]

This is beautiful. You are so good at telling stories with the perspective you actually had at the time. You could write kids' books that kids would actually relate to.

[anne]

Oh wow. Do you think that this experience made you who you are today? I mean you remember it with such clarity.

[Erin]

Beautiful as always. Made me wish I'd worn waterproof mascara today! I've never understood how a parent can leave their children! I'm glad you have such an awesome mother!

[Sarah]

You are so fortunate to have such a loving mom.

[Janssen]

I agree with everyone else; this is the best one yet.

That last part about your mom was like a virtual punch to the gut - it just was that powerful.

[Angela]

What a sad, but beautiful entry. Just thinking about how hard that had to have been for your mother makes me want to cry.

[slynnro]

Well, this is certainly the best of these I've read. So vivid, I feel like I was there.

[Mom]

Well, you warned me when I saw you yesterday, but I still had tears in my eyes this morning when I read your blog. Experiences like this do make us the people we are today -- hopefully, more compassionate, more loving, and stronger than we ever thought possible. I know that the hard times we shared made the bond among you, Rachel, and me one that will never be broken. Love you!

[Cherie]

I love you Peggy! Your Mom's post made me cry... She's the best.

[Someone Being Me]

Aww..that breaks my heart. I can't imagine leaving my children behind. My parent's divorced when I was 4 but I have been through several bad relationships of my Dad's. I didn't know the real reason my parent's divorced until I was 17 and my sister told me.

[moo]

divorce is hard, no matter when it happens. But I'm so sorry it happened when you were so young.

your mom sounds awesome!

[EmilyPie]

crazy how many of my emotions resurfaced as I read that. I'm so sorry ... Oh how I wish you knew my tale.. let's just say you aren't the only one. Way to go to your mom for being so strong.. and to you for overcoming the stereotype of coming from a "broken" home.

[Vanessa]

You have a very special mother who obviously loves you very much.

[Kerri Anne]

I love your mom. She reminds me of mine. And now I am crying and overjoyed that I get to see her in less than four days. This was heartbreakingly beautiful, Jen.

[Stephanie]

What I think says the most about you is the fact that you have (it appears, though I could be wrong) forgiven. In a similar situation, I have not. It hurt me so much to read this - there was a little too much familiarity, though the circumstances were different. But again, I truly think this post says more about YOU, and the generosity of heart and spirit you possess. And I think your mom just sounds wonderful. On further consideration, I think you probably got a lot of your best qualities from her.

[Rachel]

I wish I could have made your saddness go away. And mom's too. And to think we have never been given an apology. Oh well. And from a heart like no other, "He has made some head scratchers..." While I can't say this was easy to read, it reminds me that one's happiness is our own doing.

[OMSH]

I haven't read the others, but I'm going to because this was powerful and painful and precious. You get the triple "P" award on this one.

[chirky]

I just found you - just today - and have been reading through your timeline. I figured: hey! That will be a good introduction to you.

Your year nine reminds me, eerily, of my own year 13. My eyes actually welled up with tears, though I'll have you know that I pushed them back down because I'M AT WORK, DAMN IT.

Ahem.

It's fun to get to know you through this, though. I'm loving your timeline.