“It’s not that. Not really. My parents moved to Maine when they got married. Neither of them got along very well with their parents. We’re the only Jewish family on Owl Island. Key word, island. And it’s not like people were openly anti-Semitic, mostly. We’re not really religious or anything—well, I’m not at all—but when I was little, it was all Christmas this and Santa that as the default. Growing up, anytime there was a holiday, everyone else celebrated it and we never did, and vice versa. One of the first times I remember realizing my family was different was when my older sister Sadie started school and came home really sad because everyone exchanged Christmas cards and she realized no one was going to mention Chanukah.”

She remembered Sadie’s face. She’d been so little, but she had set her shoulders and said maybe she should make Chanukah cards for everyone instead so she could teach them about it. Their parents had told her she certainly could do that if she wanted, and Sadie, ever stubborn, had. She’d come home crying two days later because her classmates hadn’t wanted the cards or the explanation that went along with them.

By the time Greta’d gotten to school, she’d expected it and hadn’t bothered correcting anyone. Who cared what her classmates thought anyway? But Sadie had been angry with her, accused her of erasing her identity. Of course, what Sadie hadn’t known—what even Greta hadn’t understood at that time—was that there were pieces of her identity more fundamental that weren’t out in the open yet either.

“I don’t mean to make it a bigger deal than it was, but there were all these times when it was just us—every Easter, every Christmas, blah, blah, blah. We just were always the only ones who knew what that was like. We were our own little group. And it happened naturally, so I never thought about it until I was older. I don’t know if that’s how it started or what. But we’re all really used to being together, to having each other’s backs. Only now, it’s like… I didn’t really choose it, and it’s grown into something that feels stifling instead of supportive.”

Veronica nodded. “When you’re part of a minority, you wanna find the people who are like you and can understand your experience. Thing is, if that’s only a couple of people and they’re not the ones you want to spend your time with, you get group identity, but you lose your own. So you gotta be somewhere that has enough people like you to find the ones that get you but also that you wanna be with.”

Veronica uncapped frame after frame as she talked and slid them into the plastic barrel.