Tattletale

When I was little my father would spend most evenings working late and leaving my mother to single-handedly manage 3 young, rambunctious boys by herself.  That's not redundant:  I mean single-handedly literally.  She survived polio at the age of 2 but was left with little use of her left arm.

My mother would send me to my father's office to keep him company.  Then she wasn't bothered by my walking nearly a mile across town in the dark by myself.  But one year after the YMCA Halloween Party I watched all of the other kids get picked up by their parents, waited a while longer, then decided walking home alone was better than sitting on a downtown street corner alone.  This was a walk I'd made dozens of times after swim lessons. But this time she was furious that I had set off in the dark by myself.  When she got home she screamed at me and got out the belt.

Those evenings when I got to my father's office he'd let me play on the office machines.  I especially remember the large adding machine with all of the numbers lined up down the front of it and a big handle to pull to make it do the calculation.  One time when I got there the office was dark and the door was locked so I just walked back home.