The war came and took my fat her forever. I was seven.
Weeks passed, l went to school and the library.
Months slid into years. I ;vent Io temple with my mother,
and bought flowers at the market. Oddly, 1 could still
smile. From time to time, I could even laugh. But
always, the question: Why did my father die in the war?
Why couldn t he just come home, the way you re
supposed to?
More upheaval when 1 was eleven. That was the
year Mama decided to marry Sam Gold. We would
pack our bags and our lives and move to Sam s ranch in
faraway Texas. My mother danced through the rooms,
happy again. But 1 was scared.
My favorite neighbor, Mrs. Leilstein, came to the
station to see us off. She was old like a grandmother,
cozy and wise. We held hands in the station but did
not talk much. There were pearls wrapped in cotton for
Mama, all the more precious because they were Mrs.
Leitstein s pearls. And for me, a notebook of nay own,
beautiful red leather with 100 lined pages. You could
use the crispy paper to write letters. Or, you could make
it private and write anything you wanted. I did both.
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