My Whole Family

I can
remember what
things were like before she
got sick: my whole family climbed
into

the big
hammock on the
moondappled beach, wove
ourselves together, and swayed
as one.

My Sister's Christmas Eve Breakdown

One day
she was my big
sister, so normal and
well-behaved, the next she was a
stranger

rushing
out the door to
Midnight Mass, a wild-eyed
Jewish girl wearing only a
nightgown.

One day
he was my dad,
so calm and quiet and
in control, the next he was a
stranger

dragging
my big sister
away from the door, up
the stairs, screaming so loud that my
ears stung.

One day
she was my mom,
so reliable and good in
a crisis, the next she was a
stranger

standing
stock still with her
hands clamped over her mouth
and her eyes squeezed shut, not even
breathing.

That day
I sank into
the wall, wondering what
these three people were doing in
my house

and I
shouted that they
had to stop, even though
I wasn't supposed to talk to
strangers.

Three A.M. That Same Night

She hasn't gone to Mass,
hasn't gone to sleep,
hasn't stopped to catch her breath-
she can't stop talking.

She's showing me her stuff,
tons of stuff she bought,
stuff she bought this afternoon
when she went shopping.

Our bedroom's filled with bags,
way too many bags,
bags crammed full with too much stuff,
they're overflowing.

She's emptying them out:
fifty bars of soap,
feather dusters, Ping-Pong balls,
a ski mask, fishbowls,

twelve pairs of sexy shoes
(the kind she never wears),
stationery monogrammed
with wrong initials.

I'm huddled on my bed,
wrapped up in my quilt,
listening to Sister rave
on and on and

just outside the door
angry whispers rise.
Trying not to let us hear,
our parents fight.

I'm huddled on my bed,
rocking in my quilt,
wishing I could fall asleep
and end this nightmare.

Excerpted from Stop Pretending: What Happened When My Big Sister Went Crazy, by Sonya Sones. © October 1999