that Grandma Paulson gave her advice. She wanted Mom to give Dad another chance.
“That’s all I’m asking you to do, Debbie,” Grandma Paulson said. “I would want him to do the same thing for you.” She reminded my mom that families should stay together—that every household needs a man.
Shortly after they left, my mom took a short trip with my dad. I don’t know where they went, and I don’t remember whom we stayed with. I do know that when they returned, Mom and Dad were a team again. As soon as we sold the house, we would pack up the bananamobile again.
Apples in Alhambra
o keep the family together, Dad agreed to all of Mom’s requests. He told her she was the one woman who could drive him out of his mind. She alone could bring out the best—or the beast—in him. If he was going to change, she was the only person he’d do it for. She made a list of her demands. At the top of the list, he had to drink less. Second, she wanted to move back home—to the slow, gentle countryside where she’d grown up. Also, she hoped he’d respect her more. He told her he wasn’t fooling around this time. He’d really try. He desperately wanted another chance to make it work with my mother.
It’s hard to imagine why my mother would want to go back home after the abuse she endured as a child. But her parents, especially her mother, were the only support system she had. Debbie didn’t have anyone to help her but her family. And at that point in her life, she was still pretending that her childhood abuse had never happened. While she wasn’t close to her dad, she knew he would protect her from anyone who might harm her—anyone except him. In this case the known—which was living the country life—was better than the unknown.
This move was supposed to be the answer to our problems, as if we could magically erase our worries with new walls, a new yard, and new neighbors. I wasn’t skeptical then. I was all for it. This move felt different and exciting. Everyone walked around smiling for a while. Daddy came back from St. Louis more often to help us get the Kansas City house ready for sale. In the end, it sat on the market so long that we sold it to the real estate company at a loss. We just wanted to get to Alhambra before the new school year began.
Our parents told us Alhambra would finally be the end of packing boxes, wrapping dishes, and loading up the bananamobile. We were going to stay put for a nice long while. I’d never had the chance to get comfortable in my classrooms, so I was thrilled. As soon as I’d settle in with teachers and classmates, it was time to uproot and start over again. I was on my fifth move, and I was only eight.
We all needed to slow down. The country sounded like the perfect place to take a break and make things right. It was our new adventure—together. We bought a one-story brick house with an attic in Alhambra, Illinois, just forty-five minutes from St. Louis and ten minutes from Grandpa and Grandma Paulson’s farm. Aunt Deanna was sixteen and still lived with them, and so did Uncle Derek. We heard so many promises; we really hoped Mom and Dad would get along better this time.
We had a red brick raised ranch with a big picture window to the right of the front door. Mom had a large kitchen with sparkly golden wallpaper. We had an attic I could use as my bedroom and a finished basement where I could hang out with my dad. We got a dog named Barron that I loved. We even got our own cats—my Bandit was black with a white stripe, and Buttercup was Christy’s orange tabby. Animals were truly gifts to us. Christy and I had all kinds of room outside to play with them. This house sat on three acres of dreamlike property. I loved to be outdoors, especially there, where we had a stream and real apple trees. Our new yard was a treasure trove; it was my own private play world.
It didn’t occur to me to be nervous about the wilderness—our Wild West. I didn’t yet realize that I was a
“That’s all I’m asking you to do, Debbie,” Grandma Paulson said. “I would want him to do the same thing for you.” She reminded my mom that families should stay together—that every household needs a man.
Shortly after they left, my mom took a short trip with my dad. I don’t know where they went, and I don’t remember whom we stayed with. I do know that when they returned, Mom and Dad were a team again. As soon as we sold the house, we would pack up the bananamobile again.
Apples in Alhambra
o keep the family together, Dad agreed to all of Mom’s requests. He told her she was the one woman who could drive him out of his mind. She alone could bring out the best—or the beast—in him. If he was going to change, she was the only person he’d do it for. She made a list of her demands. At the top of the list, he had to drink less. Second, she wanted to move back home—to the slow, gentle countryside where she’d grown up. Also, she hoped he’d respect her more. He told her he wasn’t fooling around this time. He’d really try. He desperately wanted another chance to make it work with my mother.
It’s hard to imagine why my mother would want to go back home after the abuse she endured as a child. But her parents, especially her mother, were the only support system she had. Debbie didn’t have anyone to help her but her family. And at that point in her life, she was still pretending that her childhood abuse had never happened. While she wasn’t close to her dad, she knew he would protect her from anyone who might harm her—anyone except him. In this case the known—which was living the country life—was better than the unknown.
This move was supposed to be the answer to our problems, as if we could magically erase our worries with new walls, a new yard, and new neighbors. I wasn’t skeptical then. I was all for it. This move felt different and exciting. Everyone walked around smiling for a while. Daddy came back from St. Louis more often to help us get the Kansas City house ready for sale. In the end, it sat on the market so long that we sold it to the real estate company at a loss. We just wanted to get to Alhambra before the new school year began.
Our parents told us Alhambra would finally be the end of packing boxes, wrapping dishes, and loading up the bananamobile. We were going to stay put for a nice long while. I’d never had the chance to get comfortable in my classrooms, so I was thrilled. As soon as I’d settle in with teachers and classmates, it was time to uproot and start over again. I was on my fifth move, and I was only eight.
We all needed to slow down. The country sounded like the perfect place to take a break and make things right. It was our new adventure—together. We bought a one-story brick house with an attic in Alhambra, Illinois, just forty-five minutes from St. Louis and ten minutes from Grandpa and Grandma Paulson’s farm. Aunt Deanna was sixteen and still lived with them, and so did Uncle Derek. We heard so many promises; we really hoped Mom and Dad would get along better this time.
We had a red brick raised ranch with a big picture window to the right of the front door. Mom had a large kitchen with sparkly golden wallpaper. We had an attic I could use as my bedroom and a finished basement where I could hang out with my dad. We got a dog named Barron that I loved. We even got our own cats—my Bandit was black with a white stripe, and Buttercup was Christy’s orange tabby. Animals were truly gifts to us. Christy and I had all kinds of room outside to play with them. This house sat on three acres of dreamlike property. I loved to be outdoors, especially there, where we had a stream and real apple trees. Our new yard was a treasure trove; it was my own private play world.
It didn’t occur to me to be nervous about the wilderness—our Wild West. I didn’t yet realize that I was a
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