Kate Macrae

Sometimes when you write you write for a teacher, what they want, what they ask for or advice, sometimes you write to sound like you are full of passion and sometimes you write to get a grade. Not enough of the time do I find myself writing from somewhere deeper then the urge to get an A. For the final project I wanted to dig deeper. I wanted to write raw, uncut and unchanged emotions and feelings, but I wanted it to mean something and not just to sound emotional.

At first I didn’t want to write about divorce. Though it represented exactly what I wanted, how some events force you to grow and change, it seemed too personal and too private. Once I decided not to write about it every idea I had after that I could not write more then three sentences on. I told myself I would write about divorce as an outline and then refer back to it when I found a topic I could write about. As I started to write, it felt right. I finished a draft of all three pieces in two hours. I decided that divorce being personal is what makes it so perfect for a “coming of age” piece. It was everything I wanted it to be, real, raw and from me. My final piece is something that represents true and powerful emotions. I believe that I have dug deeper and written about something that shows true coming of age. My piece is a “coming of age” piece because it shows that you don’t just come of age it takes time.


























Stream of Consciousness

“During”

Them- “We need to talk.”
Crap, I hate when they do this.
Me- “Okay.”
Them- “We just want you to know that no matter what happens we love you.”
Oh my god, I did something but what? Or maybe mom is sick or having another kid. Ewww that’s so gross. Oh my god maybe it was that science test I never showed them. No, an 82 is not bad enough for this. I must have done something awful.
Me- “I love you guys too…”
Them- “We will always be a family.”
This is getting way to weird. Are we moving? Are we gonna buy that farm in Westchester they looked at in 5th grade? I’m in the middle of school though that would suck so bad.. There are stables there I would get to ride more then just the weekends. I miss fish. He was such a sweet horse. If we do move though I need a better name then fish for my horse. What am I saying; we can’t move I could never live outside the city full time. Going to the upstate house on the weekends is one thing but living their!!! No they can’t make me!
Me- “…..
Them- “We are getting separated.”
I hate that word, “Separated.” People use it in such a temporary way, like it means nothing when separation is the beginning and it is almost always followed by something.
Their eyes are burning holes into me. I will not look at them though. I stare at the table. I want to run, sprint, just leave. I can’t though I can’t move.
They are still looking. It hurts. The way their eyes are boring into me looking for any sign that I understand. I keep my face blank. I probably look stupid, so stupid. I don’t care. They can’t do this. They can’t.
I stand and push my chair back. It scratches the floor. I see my mom wince. I know she hates that. I leave the room and make it right outside my door before I collapse on the floor.














Diary Entry

“Thinking”

April 17th, 2009

So I do not think that I will ever forget today. It’s one of those days that feels like it’s been etched into your mind. Permanently stuck their no matter how hard you try and forget. It’s not like I could forget anyways. I will be forced to think of it everyday. Like a cut that will never heal. It’s only been two days and I miss him, even though we have talked on the phone 3 times. I miss her even though she is still here. I miss them. Alone they are different. I love them both so much. I know they love me too. They both make a point of telling me all the time. Mom says when he finds an apartment things will go back to normal. I don’t tell her that I know she is lying that things can never be “normal” again. I want to be strong. I know my mom is having a hard enough time with Jack. He is only 8. I want to help. I want to hug her. The house is so empty without him. I start to set the table for four and then stop myself. Setting it for three is weird. I know that mom feels it to when she sits in her regular spot. She does not seem that upset. Which is good I guess, that neither of them are sad.
I miss them being together. They were one person, but not now.

- Kate



“Accepting/Realizing”
I remember the night
It happened
Their voices drifted upstairs
Keeping me awake.

You can tell he is gone.
Little pieces of him are
missing.

His briefcase
From the coatroom
Cloth’s from the closet.

His smell is gone
Smell of
Earth, roses,
And my mom’s perfume.

Smell of a married man.