Voices on the Wind Voices from Home
Sibling Reunion by Kathy Cotton For the first time since Mother’s death a dozen years ago, her five children gather, spend a day sorting family photos, piecing together odd scraps of our lives in the little house on 62nd Street— now one more burned-out, abandoned lot in the hometown that was an All-American City for the eldest of us; a place of racial unrest and white-flight decay for the youngest. Along the two-decade continuum of our births, some lived a driveway’s width from Grandma and Grandpa and the constant company of relatives. Others remember only the empty lot of their demolished house, no trace of Grace and George. But we find our order most defined by how we remember Mother: Mother, kind and nurturing. Mother, deathbed ill. Mother, depressed. Mother crazy. The thread of her life stitches us together, unevenly.