The Healing Eggs

Secrets girls tell each other… when no one else will listen…

Two Owls Calling

I always thought I disliked eggs, that they weren’t my thing, until I made the connection between them and 1975. (My clenching stomach served as the time machine.)

It was the summer of my twelfth year, when we drove from the Rocky Mountains to the Hudson River Valley. While I lay on the floor of our curtain van, I listened as my mother and sisters wept their way out of Colorado, and 2000 miles of clouds passed by.

A year earlier, during the final stretch of my father’s medical residency, their voices grew loud enough to wake me in my basement bedroom. Later I watched as he emptied bottles down the drain, demanding to know her hiding places.

“Watch your mother,” he said. “She’s sick. Don’t let her get more.”

My stomach clenched.

The warnings continued after we arrived at West Point, and soon after, my mother left, taking the youngest two…

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