It was a house of love and a safe haven where laughter was frequent, anxiety had no place, affection reigned. It was a Cape Cod bungalow with a white picket fence that made me feel warm and happy. In short, it was 1950s perfect and I wished it were mine.
I lived across the street in a house that became a place of illness, loneliness, and "quiet despair." My mother's chronic depression began there as my father's tense nature worsened when business failures mounted. So I began to virtually reside in the perfect Cape Cod cottage and to make of myself a part of that Dick-and-Jane family, to internalize their traditions, to survive my childhood pain.
I was ten and their first child was two when I started my after-school visits. I played with the petite red-headed toddler and when she tired, I sat at the kitchen table as her mother peeled potatoes for dinner. Watching her, I imagined having a house of my own with children, and a husband who, each evening when he returned from work, kissed his wife in a lingering embrace.
Soon I became the regular babysitter. I loved playing grown-up on those weekends as I transformed crumpled sheets from the laundry basket into neatly folded piles, or emptied the dishwasher. This is what it would be like, I thought, to have my child asleep in a talcum-scented room decorated with decals on the crib and a balloon lamp on the tiny dresser. This is what it would be like being the anchor in a happy family.
I learned many things in my adopted home, especially from the mother. I learned unreserved trust, not only because she gave her children into my care, but because she laughed heartedly while teaching me to drive stick-shift as I lurched with each gear change. That taught me to laugh at myself and at others who teased me affectionately.
There were lessons about generosity exemplified by weekly encounters with Dan, the vegetable man. Every Wednesday Dan arrived in his truck, singing out, "Anything today?"
"Not today, Dan!"
"Nice broccoli? Fresh green beans?" Soon the kitchen was full of produce.
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