I have one brother and one sister. Her name is Rebecca, and she is actually my half-sister. She lives in Florida, and has just begun highschool. She wrote a guest entry for my diary's second birthday, and she previously wrote a guest entry at the end of Decmeber 1998. We get along marvelously well.

Rebecca was born the day the space shuttle challenger blew up, in 1986. I can't describe how I feel about that, because I haven't been able to identify my emotions. I was in third grade, and I remember the day well. My teacher had really wanted to be the teacher in space; she had applied for the program. She cried and cried when the shuttle exploded and had to leave school. One crystal clear day from my childhood: my sister was born and I didn't know it. You see, my father, in true cliché fashion, was a lawyer who had an affair with his secretary. Rebecca was born; my parents divorced, but I didn't learn of Rebecca for the first year of her life. I first met her when she was a year and a half old, and I had lost so much of the time in which I would be able to carry her. She grew up living with her mother in Santa Monica, while my brother and I spent half and half time between our parents' houses. Rebecca would come and visit occasionally, but she never lived with our father for any length of time. In 1995 her mother married her college flame and relocated with Rebecca to Florida. I was ok with that, because I was leaving for college and knew that I wouldn't see her anyway, but the time zone difference also meant that we didn't get to talk very often. I have tried to remedy that situation now that I have moved to New York.

 

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created Monday, 26 July 99
updated Monday, 20 Sept 99