Page 111 of Rewriting the Story

“Which Steven had to teach us how to use,” my mom says with a laugh. “You looked so different from the daughter we knew, almost carefree in those photos.”

“That’s how traveling made me feel. It’s how Istillfeel, but I’ve realized over the years that Virginia is where I’m meant to be.”

“George, go get them,” my mother says.

My father jumps up from the table, already knowing what she’s referring to.

“Wait,” I say before he rounds the staircase. “Can I tell you both something before you grab whatever you’re grabbing?”

“Sure, honey,” he says before he comes back over, still standing. They wait for me to continue, but for some reason, telling them about my diagnosis is terrifying.

“I know you guys thought I was a lazy kid who was unmotivated and moody, but when I was in England, things got dark. I was depressed, unhappy, and I couldn't figure out why my brain was being as mean to me as it was. So, I went to see someone about it, and she diagnosed me with ADHD.”

They let what I say settle into the air, and before I know it, my father has his arms around me.

“I’m sorry for not getting you the proper help you needed as a kid,” he whispers to me.

“We always thought it was just your personality,” my mom says. “I wish we tried a little harder and noticed the signs sooner, Amelia. That must have been hard for you discovering that all by yourself.”

I can only nod. “It was, but I got through it. I’m handling it a lot better. I’m on medication for it, and I don’t feel as messy as I did before.”

My dad squeezes me a little tighter before he pulls back, rounding the stairs before looking back at me. “Please don’t leave until I come back, okay?”

“I’ll be here, Dad.”

“Good.” He smiles before he’s out of sight, and it’s just me and my mother at the table.

“It might take him a few minutes, but I really am glad to see you, Amelia.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” my mother says as she grabs one of my hands.

“What did you mean when you told me I was destined to be alone before I went to England? Because I’ve tried saying it a thousand different ways, and none of them end up being taken well.”

Her head falls a little as she finds my eyes again. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“But why did you?”

“The therapist we’ve been seeing the past few years tells me it's because I was projecting my feelings onto you,” she tells me, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I always felt so far away from you, and I blamed myself for not being able to tell when my own daughter was struggling. I apologize, Amelia. I’m sorry I said that to you as your mother and as a person.”

A tear falls from my eye, and I swipe it away. “Wow. It’s kind of funny that we’re both seeing someone,” I tell her. “Dr. Elyse has helped me get a better handle on how my brain operates. She’s also helped me to stoprunning away from things and instead run toward them. Which, I guess, is why I’m here right now.”

“Your father and I are so glad you’re back.” My mom squeezes my hand. “We can’t wait to hear all about England, if that’s something you want to talk to us about. And we’d love to hear about that brain of yours and what we can do to help.”

“I’d like that,” I tell her.

“I found them,” my father announces, and as soon as he gets to the table, he pours a bunch of issues from National Geographic onto the table. “These are all the issues you worked on, Amelia. We bought all of them.”

“You’re a wonderful writer and journalist, honey,” my mother says, and I’m about to burst into tears.

“You guys read all of them?” I say as I filter through the magazines, remembering each piece I did.

“Of course we did,” my father says as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. “We’re really proud of you for all the wonderful work you’ve created.”

“You’re proud of me?” I say, tears filling my eyes. “Really?”

“Of course we are,” my father says. “We're sorry it took us so long to see this was the path you were meant to be on.”

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