On the facing page are pictures of Oakmont School in Havertown, and the Havertown Library. I'm still discovering that I have lots of direct memories of this time, which is a surprise to me. One of the effects I've always felt from my mother's death was the loss of my childhood. Your mother is the repository-- she is the keeper of the memory. You do not need to retain or retrieve your own memories, because they are so precious to your mother.

My father always remembered things so differently, or remembered such different things, that I've never quite trusted him. I always think he has slanted things to tell the story he wants to tell. I don't begrudge him this, necessarily, but I don't want to remember his story from this time. I want to remember my story.

Flashing on Oakmont School: Mr. Bixler, the petty-dictator music teacher, whom we always giggled that he was making it with Miss Meredith, the old-maid 6th grade teacher. I used to fight with the art teacher because I wanted to make art my way. The Hindu girl in braces-- she must have had polio. Getting a carnation corsage at school pick up the day I did my Sherwood "audition" and the smell of the carnations making me nauseous. A new Kettlecloth dress for the first day of school every year. The word of the day in 5th grade. Mrs. Mutter, the fifth grade teacher, whose young daughter died of spinal meningitis. Writing to authors and illustrators and receiving samples of their work in return, which I believe I still have (in fact, somewhere in this house I'm pretty sure are some Garth Williams sketchbook pages, and possibly some Tasha Tudor). Miss Buchanan, fourth grade. Nearly choking to death on a hard candy in the school library one summer when Paula Klein and I were working there alone, which was probably soooo against the rules. Getting the job of "assistant librarian" when Jan Roberts had already been assured that the job would be hers.

On and on. It turns out that I had a life, and that I remember it. All it took was three nearly identical pictures to bring it all flooding back.