Prologue
I was
the first one to wake up that morning in late August of 1957. I stretched my
legs out until they touched my sister’s back as she lay sleeping across the
foot of the bed and wiggled my toes to nudge her awake before turning over to face
my other sister, sleeping by my side. Our little brother was tucked in the
lower corner where my sisters’ feet met, thus forming a small corral for the
two-year-old so he wouldn’t fall out of bed. We were like four little peas in a
pod sleeping together in the same bed. We each had our own cover which we
clutched around our shoulders Indian style except for the baby. He had a small
crib blanket tucked over him.
As we
blinked our eyes open, our first thoughts were on the adventure we would be
having that day! Mother had promised we would all get to ride on a train that
would take us to Kansas City to be reunited with our daddy. He had left a few
days after our new baby sister was born just weeks earlier so he could get an
apartment ready for us and would be there to meet us at the station.
The suitcases
were already packed and lined up by the door. Our family of six – and now seven
since our sister’s birth - had been living with Granny and Grandad for the past
two years. They were Mother’s parents and Granny did not like our Daddy, no
matter how hard he tried to please her. Daddy’s family lived in Kansas City and
that’s where he had met Mother and that’s where I had been born and that’s
where we were all going to live now.
Even
though we were just children, we knew that we weren’t really welcome here and
were so happy to be leaving! I got up and dressed, helped my sisters get ready
and then changed my baby brother’s diaper and put clean clothes on him. We went
out to the kitchen where I made toast and fixed each of us a bowl of cereal.
Even as I was putting our breakfast on the table, you could feel the tension in
the air. I was only eight years old, but I could tell by the grim face of my
Granny and the set of her thin straight lips, that she was angry. Granddad, who
was normally a kind and gentle man, seemed upset as well. I could not for the life of me figure out
what on earth we had done to make them so mad but I knew it wasn’t good and
that they could not wait for us to leave!
While
we ate our breakfast, I watched Mother getting our brand new baby sister
dressed and fed. She was still a newborn and so very small and yet Granny
seemed to be mad at her, too! There were no smiles from either Granny or
Grandad as they poured their coffee and drank it silently sitting at the far
end of the table. Neither of them even looked at the baby and they certainly
did not ask to hold her or coo at her and they were all but ignoring us as
well.
Mother
looked relieved when the taxi arrived and tooted its horn. We filed out of the
house without so much as a smile or a hug or even a kind word from our
grandparents. The door shut firmly behind us. We packed ourselves into the cab
like a bunch of sardines. Mother held the new baby on her lap and sat up front
with the driver. My two sisters and I sat in the back seat and I held my
brother on my lap. Every piece of clothing we owned was in the trunk of that
cab. We left nothing behind, not that we had much to begin with. We had no toys
or even stuffed animals for the younger ones to hold. All we had were each
other.
Mother
was just 31 years old. What was she thinking as the taxi sped away towards the
railroad station? She had five children ranging in age from eight years old to
a newborn. As I sat in the back seat, I couldn’t help but notice how worried
she looked. What was the matter? I thought she would be happy to be leaving
Granny and Granddad! We were!
We
heard the train whistles as we approached the station. The cab parked and we
unloaded. My sisters were jumping up and down from sheer excitement. Only
Mother, and now I, acted nervous.
The taxi drove away from the curb leaving us in a tight
little group. I imagine we made a pretty picture. Mother was dressed nicely in
her very best dress with a small hat on her head and wearing a pair of pretty
clipped earrings with a matching necklace. She stood there, surrounded by all her
children with suitcases encircling us. Mother didn’t move. She didn’t call for
a porter to take our luggage. She did not even face the train station but
turned her face, instead, toward the street and began to look expectantly at
the cars coming and going. We simply stood there for what seemed like a long
time. Something was terribly wrong. My little sisters started to cry and my
brother began to whimper and squirm in my arms.
Finally,
just as I started to ask Mother what we should do, a big black car pulled up to
the curb beside us. A short, ugly old man with a fat cigar in his mouth got out
and without one word started putting our suitcases in the trunk. Mother seemed
to know who he was but we had never seen him before. He looked sinister, dressed all in black with
a dark hat pushed firmly down on his head. I felt the first cold trickle of
fear enter my heart. Mother motioned for us to get in the back seat of his car
and then she got in the front seat next to that scary old man puffing angrily
on the nasty smelling cigar. The car pulled from the curb carrying us away to a
completely different life. We entered a dark world full of fear and
uncertainty, and once again, we were to live with people who didn’t want us.
My childhood ended that day in August of 1957. I was one month away from my 9th birthday.
This is what I wrote on March 23, 2015
