TITLE: Pomegranate Seeds
GENRE: Women's Fiction
There are two things I remember very clearly from the house on the beach where we lived until I was six years old. The first is the sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks in our backyard. The second is the day my sister Sarah drowned.
The house was on Highway One, about half an hour south of San Francisco, and had been built in the early 1900’s by a famously eccentric Berkeley professor. We lived there until right after my sixth birthday, when my parents announced that we were moving to Spain. They began to pack up the house that August. As the stack of boxes in the living room grew, the house became suffused with a quiet excitement. My mother’s smile became brighter, my father’s laugh more frequent. The only one who wasn’t happy was my sister.
Sixteen, and anything but sweet, Sarah was convinced that my parents were trying to ruin her life. When she was home, my mother’s eyes would turn stormy and they would scream at each other so loudly I could still hear them with a pillow pressed over my head. When she was gone, which happened more and more often as the summer went on, I followed my mother from room to room like a kitten tracking a square of sunlight across the floor.
That afternoon, the afternoon Sarah drowned, was clear and sunny and almost hot.