He was far too big for our attic.
I was about four.
And I hated kindergarten.
I hated the teacher.
I hated the other children.
I hated nap time and the food.
To me, it was a place where little children were punished.
One day, I overheard the teachers talking.
One child's mother had called.
She had the day off.
The child was allowed to leave early.
They were going to the rooftop to sunbathe.
The thought hit me instantly.
I always wanted to leave kindergarten.
But even more than that, I wanted someone to want to be with me.
Without having to.
The sun was shining outside the window.
Summer was at its best.
An irresistible urge came over me to get outside.
So I told the teachers some story.
And unbelievably, they believed me.
They let me leave.
I ran as fast as I could at first, then slowed to a walk along the side of the road.
I picked flowers.
I enjoyed the sunshine and the freedom.
Then I heard sirens.
I knew immediately they were looking for me.
I jumped into a ditch to hide.
The police car drove past.
I was afraid, because I knew I had done something wrong.
I ran home and hid under the bed.
My brother was five years older than me and completely confused when the police officer climbed into the attic.
From under the bed, I could only see his shadow.
The officer was big.
Too big.
He asked if I was home.
My brother pulled me out immediately.
I was so frightened I couldn't move.
The officer's voice became gentle.
So gentle, that I wanted to jump into his arms
and say, "Take me with you." But I stood where I was.
The officer looked at me for a moment.
He explained to my brother what had happened.
Then he said, "She can stay here.
Her big brother is home.
And the little girl doesn't seem to be in any danger." I don't remember what happened afterward.
What I remember best is the feeling of freedom.
The warmth of that summer day on my face.
And the unusually beautiful daisies I picked along the roadside while I was running away.