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each other we would re-connect.
    My coming to Pittsburgh gave us the opportunity to get to know each other again. I hadn’t seen or talked to my cousins since my Aunt Sharon’s funeral. My dad rarely mentioned his brother, Paul, and the last I remembered they were living near the base in Quantico, Virginia.
    â€œIt was hard growing up without my mother,” Alicia said opening a bottle of nail polish. “I used to dream she was still alive.”
    â€œIt’s like a part of you is missing and no matter what you do you can’t get it back.” Andrea stopped doing crunches and faced me. “You’re so blessed to have your mother.”
    â€œYou know, like when you went to the prom, the first time your heart was broken,” Alicia began.
    â€œAnd little things like when your bras are too small, when you wanted to use tampons instead of pads, and when you have cramps. My dad didn’t understand,” Andrea added.
    â€œMy mom isn’t easy to talk to,” I stated flatly.
    â€œAlicia seemed puzzled. “What do you mean? From what I remember, your mom is very nice.”
    â€œShe is very nice and I do love her.” I was searching for the right words. “We’re just not close. We never really talked about stuff.”
    â€œWhy not?” Andrea wanted to know.
    â€œI don’t know. We just never did.” I could feel tears swelling in my eyes. “I was really close to my grandmother – Ida, my mother’s mother.”
    â€œThere’s nothing like a mother.” Alicia was fighting back her own tears. “I really miss mine.”
    â€œMy parents met at a party at Dartmouth.” Andrea intentionally shifted the conversation.
    â€œOh, I didn’t know that.”
    â€œShe should have been a doctor,” Alicia added.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œLove,” Andrea smirked. “She married my dad and left Radcliffe to go with him to Japan.”
    â€œWhat did her parents say?”
    â€œHer parents were killed in a car accident when she was a teenager. She lived with her aunt who was not happy and to this day doesn’t like my dad.”
    Andrea and Alicia spent their summers in Cambridge, Massachusetts with their great aunt, Virginia Baltimore. They had many good memories of their time with her even though she never liked their dad. It was just like Nana and me; Nana didn’t particularly care for my dad either.
    I shared with them the seeds of wisdom Nana taught me. They shared with me about dream stealers. Type I always doubts you and says your dreams are too big. Type II embraces your dreams as possible only if they become the designated partner. Type III pretends to be interested in your dreams but wants you to rely on them to make a call or provide some connection so you will always be indebted to them. Type IV is envious of your ambition and pretends to be interested in your dreams. Once you begin to have success they try to take credit for your accomplishments.
    The evening was good, but it was also like a spear. Iresolved to do better at connecting with my mother. I envisioned that one day she and I would sit and talk and get to know each other, really know each other. I would be able to tell her about my fears and pains and I would ask about hers. One day, I hoped, we would share ourselves with each other.

    My first day at work was exciting and intimidating. Equipped with my Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology, I thought I was ready to take on the world. My first week was a reality check that there were many things I needed to learn. The stories some of the women told were incredible. Years of abuse and neglect, poor choices, drug dealing boyfriends, herpes, venereal diseases, broken noses and ribs – and I thought I had it bad growing up with my dad. By the end of my first week nothing shocked me. Not even the multiple partnerships in which some of the women delighted in knowing their children would