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.