No Forwarding Address

     When I was nine years old, I came home from school and discovered that my family had moved.
     It was December 6, 1968, and I was in the fourth grade at East Prairie School in Skokie.  I had known in theory that we were planning to move and that I would be attending a different school, but I'm sure my parents were trying to keep everything "normal" so I wouldn't get too anxious.  I kept going to Girl Scouts, taking piano lessons and doing my homework. Late in the afternoon of December 6, while everyone in my class was completing a math assignment on the times tables, Miss Pawlkowski told me to return my books to the library. It was the first time it occurred to me that I wasn't coming back.
     I got on the bus as usual at the end of the day without much fanfare and rode to my stop at the corner of Brummel and Kenneth.  I got off the bus and walked to my house, expecting to see my parents packed and waiting for me.  But when I arrived at my house, the shades were all the way up and I could see straight through the house into the backyard. It was empty.
     I tried the door but it was locked.  I rang the doorbell over and over, not quite sure what else to do.
     It was cold, getting dark, and I was hungry.  All I had was a box of 64 crayons, some pencils without erasers, and a folder full of spelling tests.
     I walked down to my friend Donna Jean Pelican's house and asked her if she wanted to play.   I was hoping my mother had left a message with her mother, but Mrs. Pelican had seen the moving van drive away earlier in the day and was clearly a little freaked out to see me.
     Their Christmas tree was up, and it looked beautiful.  There were ornaments and gifts everywhere, and it was the opposite of my sad house down the block.  We played with Donna Jean's Barbies under the tree until it got dark.  I could smell her dinner in the oven, and I could see her mother pacing around the house, chain smoking cigarette after cigarette.
     I was fairly certain that my family would eventually find me, but I was wearing out  my welcome at Donna Jean's. I considered going to another neighbor's house, but I was pretty certain my parents would come looking for me at the Pelicans first.  I didn't know what to do, and I started to cry.
     That made Donna Jean start to cry, and I thought Mrs. Pelican might cry too.
     Finally the doorbell rang and my father walked in.  I ran to him as if we had been separated for years, rather than having kissed him goodbye just that morning.  He was sure my mother had told me to wait for him at school, as they had not wanted me to see the empty house (oops!) But in the confusion of moving day, it had evidently slipped my mother's mind--I was not the sort of girl who would have forgotten.  My father had searched the school, and then started going to my friends' homes. 
     We hightailed it out of the Pelicans, and started the drive to Northbrook in rush hour traffic.  It took a long time to get to my new house which made it seem even further away than it was.  I remember when we got there, my mother said, "Did you think we left without you?" as if it were a joke.  But I was mad at her--I mean, they DID leave without me! And frankly, I think I turned out shockingly well-adjusted under the circumstances.