Ever since elementary school grades were extremely important to my mother. She would pride herself on how well my brother and I were doing in school. “What you do now dictates what happens the rest of your life.” Since elementary school I heard that. Usually students begin to get that pep talk in high school but not for me.

 Middle School came around and I had a certain expectation to uphold. The great almighty Sergio had walked through those halls. “Oh my gosh you’re Sergio’s sister?!” I would get all the time no matter who I had as a teacher, or what activity I did. He set the bar too high, way wayyy too high, I would think to myself. In my mind he had ruined my whole middle school experience because I could never measure up. Little did I know what was awaiting me for high school.

My grades in middle school were amazing. They would at least be amazing if I had them now. School had always come easy to me. My mom would always brag about how amazing my grades were to other people, yet at home they weren’t good enough. I always had high honor roll which had to be over 92.5 but that was not good enough.

Once in high school the expectations for me became very apparent. “Congrats! Your brother was accepted to Yael,” they’d say. Congrats? What do I have to do with that. “Oh you’re a Nazaire you must be amazing at piano … you must be amazing at math … you must be so proud.” I was proud but being compared to someone and having such high expectations set for me was difficult. I wanted to be able to create a path for myself not treat through my brothers and barely be half as good.

But no matter what I was set up for failure. Not because Sergio was too smart but because I had made myself think I could not compare. But I am different in my own way. He may have been amazing at certain things but in time I will find something that’s my own. Something that I won’t stress about him being better at. Something  that I wont feel like I failed at.

 http://www.education.com/reference/article/influences-sibling-relationships/

Happy Place

On warm summer days my father used to bring us over to a beach far from our house. It would always be a trip we did on the weekends because we'd have to stay a few nights in a hotel. We'd have a great time at the beach running and playing in the water. He would teach us and challenge us to swim out as far as we could, and then after we went swimming we would sit on the beach in the sand. No matter how many times my mom would tell me to put on sun screen I would always refuse and run away from her cream covered hands which would result in her putting a second coat all over my brother.


My mom would bring us out into this green, grassy area and we could throw a Frisbee back and forth, back and forth, and it was so fun to spend the day together. We would walk down the boardwalk, and it was always interesting to see all the little stores selling souvenirs and things made to catch my eye, along with the ice cream stores which had every flavor one could think of. I would spend my afternoons building castles in the sand, decorating them with shells and building moats-like hills to try and direct the flow of water, until the tide was too high and washed them away. Writing my name in the sand with my families and then a special spot where I'd be silly and put the name of myself along with the name of whoever my crush was at the time.

That too would wash away as the tide rose almost like a warning, to cherish what I could when I could because one day it would wash away with nothing left but the memories.

Going home sticky with ice-cream and the sting of salt on my skin, washing every last grain of sand from my hair, feeling intoxicated by the fresh air and wild power of the ocean, crawling into bed and still feeling the sway of the waves against my legs. For the rest of the summer I would beg my parents to take me again, even when my parents got divorced my mom would take my brother and I. Even when my brother went away to college my mom and I would still always make sure to go. She knew how much I loved the feel of the sand under my toes and the hot sting of the sun on my skin no matter how hot it got. I feel most content and at peace there because I just somehow feel most at home. 

 To this day, that city, that area, that beach is still my happy place.

 

Memories

My parents were separated for months. It was the hardest time of my life. But that’s another story for another time. The earliest memory I have is when I was very young before I even started school. My mom and I were laying down just relaxing. At least what I thought relaxing was at that age. We woke up from a nap I think. But anyways we thought it would be funny to knock on the wall. So we do. Downstairs I hear my dad open the door. We giggle to ourselves. We hear the door close, and knock again. We hear his footsteps race across the floor to open the back door I imagine. He comes up and talks to my mom. Then we reveal we’re the knockers. We all laughed. 

That one memory is what kept me going. With the hope that their love and marriage vows were strong enough last the stupidest jokes and they would survive this. Although I could have turned to acting out. Getting into trouble when they separated. But I decided why should I ruin my life for their decision to destroy my happiness like other kids might do. At least thats how it seemed to me. that they were trying to make me unhappy. 

I’ll just make my own happiness. 

My real friends were there for me, it was a chance to see who’d be there for me. Though the experience is nothing I would wish on a person I learned a lot from it. One don’t piss of my mom. She knows who she is and fights for it. She’s independent. I can only hope to be half the woman she is. 

Two my dad will always be there for me...in his own way. He'd never really been all that good at the whole father thing. It wasn't his fault it's just how he was brought up. He didn't know any better. But the happy days were never forgotten. Days like those gave me hope and although it did not change anything, during those days I felt like I accomplished something. Maybe a few more days of them together. Or that was just my childlike way of coping. But either way memories such as that one have stuck with me for years. 

This had been a mark on me and it definitely changed me.