Nerz Road

In the book The Dutch House by Anne Patchett, the main character says, “the story of my sister was the only one I was ever meant to tell,” a line that took me down, reduced me to tears, when I first read it. The stories of my family and our light blue farm house on seven acres in Newburgh, New York, the stories of my siblings’ lives and the impressions they made on me as the youngest of seven are so rich and interesting, at least to me, that I could retell them for the rest of my life, trying to get them right. I don’t get them right, so I need and want to rewrite them, and that’s okay. I suppose by writing about my family I keep everyone close. My sister, Mary, my Godmother, often said before she died that she dreamed of a Nerz Road where we would all live together again. My last words to her before she died were, “See you on Nerz Road.” Through my writing, I create my own version of Nerz Road, traversing its winding way, stopping, learning from our mistakes and struggles, savoring the moments and people I love and miss.