The End of Childhood Happiness

In the summer, we moved to a cement house on Poltenberg Street number eight. A few days before the move, my mother's half-sister, Irene, wrote us a letter asking that I go live with her. Irene's aunts and uncles left her alone when they moved to a big house they owned in the city of Debrecen, number six Garav Street. According to her instructions, I was to go on Thursday, leaving me just three days to prepare. First, I was to travel to my mother's first cousin, the Shiposh family, who lived in Debrecen, number thirty-six Josef Kiraby Herceg Street. They were to escort me to the train station, from where I would travel to the small town of Hajdusamson, where Irene would wait for me at the train station. I hardly had time to part from a few close friends!

I was very excited at first, but within a few moments dark shadows crept into my feelings. My father expressed great anger when my mother showed him the letter, and insisted that I not go. But my strong-willed mother had the last word and decided that I would go. And that was all. Nobody asked me if I wished to leave home to live with a fifty-six year old lady who never married, and who was raised from childhood by her grandmother and two aunts who also never married. A divorced uncle later joined them and that was her home. Irene's mother had passed away soon after her birth. I was thirteen years old, and had never met this aunt of mine before.

We moved to our new house and finished putting our belongings in place late at night. Then my father helped me pack and gave me instructions how to get to my relatives' house from the train station in Debrecen. We all went to bed late and tired. I got up early the next morning, drank a cup of coffee, took a sandwich to go, and kissed my family goodbye, my small pack beneath my arm. I left my little sister my shiny black boots and left my family, my sweet childhood home.

On this Thursday, I left behind my happy childhood years - and happiness itself. Alone on my way to a strange place, with a sad feeling. I walked through the main street of Puspokladony to the train station, bought my ticket, boarded the train and took my place by the window, watching the scenery rush by with tears in my eyes.

© David Muskal, 2001