What you find on this website is the story of my relationship with B.
B and I are sisters, but when we were in 7th grade our paths parted, by virtue of our parents’s separation. I went with dad, she stayed with mom. The separation was so painful that after several years of struggle (powered largely by our parent’s insistence) we decided to cut ties altogether. The relief was enormous, at least on my end.
You see, I was always very much a daddy’s daughter – hiking with him, playing scrabble, reading good literature. B, for whatever reason, was the opposite – she was almost an exact copy of our mother. Soft, messy, very emotional, and to my mind – kinda disgusting.
So, when I hit 18, and officially gain freedom from the court ordered duty of seeing my mom every two weeks, I moved outta town and didn’t care to even call either my mom or B. I ultimately landed abroad, with no plan of ever going back.
However, to my great surprise and distress – a couple of years after I left home B started contacting me. In the beginning, it was just emails – short but frequent, bugging but easy enough to dismiss. Then she started calling. In fact she called so often that even my friends and work mates learned of her existence, which I had failed to mention to them before. I guess we both felt betrayed by one another when the slit happen. Or at least I felt betrayed. Can’t speak for her.
I didn’t answer her phones (this would give you an idea of the level of neurosis involved), but I did listen to the messages she left. There wasn’t really that much content in there, other than she has to get in touch with me. I texted her back, neutral style, unwilling to talk, claiming phone problems and too much work. Asked if everybody is alive. Yes, they were, she explained, she just wanted to talk. Then one day she said: Magda, I’m in the US. I’m coming to see you. Well, shit, I thought. What now?
And the answer is this blog.