In Writing

Today’s post is not by me, but about me. Yesterday my brother sent me this link of a piece he wrote about a conversation we had when he was little, about twenty-five years ago. That he still remembers it touches me profoundly. I remember the grave responsibility I felt when he asked me the question he describes in the essay, and how very much I wanted to get the answer right while still being truthful and respectful of his intellect. For my answer, I drew upon a beloved book. I’m glad to learn all these years later it was the right move.

I was the “cool” sister to him when he was small (there’s a big age gap, or at least it felt big when he was a little kid and I was a teenager). He often looked to me for wisdom. I loved the feeling of that, like I could do good in the world by helping one young mind be at ease. This short piece recounts one of many such conversations. He would have been about ten or so at the time. He’s thirty-five now.

It’s a sweet piece. Made me tear right up. I’m usually the one writing about things, not being written about, so it was interesting/strange to see myself described in print. It’s weird that people remember different things about you than you remember about yourself.

Click here to check it out.

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