I have no idea why I actually chose to leave home at age 14, but early the following morning, I told my mother, "Yes, I'm going." She nodded her head and said, "I'm happy for you."
I don't recall much of the next five weeks except that I was somewhat alienated from my classmates because I was working independently now to finish my schoolwork ahead of schedule. Of course, they all asked me why I was doing it, so I just told them I was going on "vacation" which wasn't a total lie. I just wasn't able to tell them because I probably would have spent those five weeks crying my eyes out. It was hard enough leaving my mom and dad.
Before I knew it, my father was hugging me goodbye as my mom and I prepared to board the train. He promised to send me a newspaper every day because he knew how much I enjoyed reading it. That was just so sweet of him. I told him, "That's cool, and I promise not to be gone too long."
Another train ride, another hotel stay, another taxi ride, and another walk into the hospital--the only difference was that this time I was carrying a small bag that included a new address book that my mom had given to me, which I had filled with addresses of friends and relatives, a book that I had taken to read on the train, and the clothes on my back. I definitely had mixed feelings--the fear of the unknown and the anxiety of having my mom leave me.
Following a short consultation with one of the doctors, a nurse showed us the way to my "home away from home," a huge room that I would share with four other teenage girls. She introduced me to them, showed me my "space," and then led my mom and me to the hugest closet I had ever seen in my entire life. It was filled with what seemed like hundreds of dresses and drawers filled with undergarments. Wow! This might not be so bad after all! I love clothes! I did notice, though, that there were NO shoes lining the closet floor.
Once I had changed my clothes, we were given the grand tour of the hospital including a sun room, playroom, schoolroom, entertainment room, and TV room to name a few. Back in my own room, mom helped me settle in and chatted with me and the other girls who were so curious to know all about me. After all, we would be living together for who knows how long.
When visiting hours came to an end, my mother gave me a super hug, kissed me several times, tried wiping away my tears...and walked quietly away, turning once to blow me a final kiss.
I was heart-broken. Why did I ever say Yes?
To be continued...
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