Old Baggage

By Christi Hamilton


A woman has been unable for years to grieve properly over the death of a twin brother.


Mary (daughter)


(Scene: Attic type set up, boxes all around and junk, 1 main chair center stage and a stool or chair in area. Mom and daughter enter.)

Mary: Only a few more boxes, Mom, and I think we will have you all packed up and ready to go to your new home.

Mom: ( Negative attitude) This has been my home for over 30 years I don't see why I would need to live any where else. ( sits)

Mary: I know, Mom, if these walls could talk....shaking her head ( looking in the boxes). Mom? Is this your high school year book? How come I have never seen this. (Walking towards her) Show me your picture, please?

Mom: Oh Mary, don't you have more important things to do besides digging through my boring old memories?

Mary: What do you mean boring ? Wow! ( holding the year book open in hand and pointing to a page) is this you? Looks like you in some kind of show or something. Were you singing and dancing? Hey, who is this guy in the picture with you?

Mom: ( taking the book away from Mary) Aren't you are supposed to be helping me put things in the boxes not taking things out of them?

Mary: Sorry. ( Back over to boxes once more) Hey, here is a Graduation picture! It is of you under the big oak tree out back, in your Cap and Gown. Who's this guy in the picture with you, it looks like the same one in your yearbook, what is his name ?

Mom: Mary, Come here dear and sit down. (Pause as Mary grabs a stool and sit, Mom looking at picture in Mary's hand.) His name was Michael, he was my twin brother.

Mary: ( astonished) Who? (Pause) I don't remember you ever talking about having a brother, so you mean I have an uncle?.

Mom: Well, you see, I never really told anyone about Michael. (Pause with deep breath) In fact, I never even told your father. ( Pause) Shortly after this picture was taken Michael died.

Mary: Oh Mom I am so sorry, was he sick?

Mom: No, Mary, he was not sick. (Looking up) Michael and I had always dreamed of going to the big city and performing on Broadway together, but we never made it. Michael was killed on our way there.

Mary: What happened?

Mom: Michael always insisted on driving whenever we went somewhere. We still had a 2 day drive ahead of us and Michael was getting tired. I continued to bug him to let me drive so he could get some rest, so he finally gave in. As Michael slept in the back seat I drove on into the night. (Breaking down some) The next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital and being told that I had been in a terrible accident and that my brother was dead..

Mary: How tragic, so you don't remember how the accident happened?

Mom: No, I have tried to re-live that night in my mind a million times over the years but I continue to feel so much guilt for bugging Michael to let me drive..

Mary: But you said Michael was tired, he might have fallen asleep while he was driving and who knows what might have happened then.

Mom: All I know is if I had not pushed him to let me drive, he would still be alive today.

Mary: Yes, but you also could have been killed.

Mom: Oh, I am sure I would of suffered a lot less pain being killed in that accident than to have to deal with it like I have over the years.

Mary: But I still do not understand WHY you never told anyone about Michael.

Mom: I could not deal with the emotional anguish I had created for my parents and that I was responsible for losing my brother. I felt that if I shared my past with others that I would eventually have to face it, so I just kept it inside.

Mary: But Mom it was an accident, you've got to stop blaming your self ( pause). Tell you what, I think we both could use some fresh air, do you want to go for a drive?.

Mom: Sure, But ( pause ) Mary, would you drive us out to the old cemetery? I want to show you were your Uncle Michael is buried and tell you more about him.

(Both leave)



© Christi Hamilton, Clay Community Church, Orange Park, Florida

All rights reserved
This play may be performed free of charge, on the condition that copies are not sold for profit in any medium, nor any entrance fee charged.
In exchange for free performance, the author would appreciate being notified of when and for what purpose the play is performed.

She may be contacted at: divaholic@hotmail.com