Micah then asked, if I was still hungry and when I told her I was, she scooped a bunch of the stuff into that same copper pot and said, “Micah make it hot for Al-ben.”

She never did tell me, what was in it and I guess that’s better, because if it had turned out to be something gross, like goat brains or cow balls, I probably would have barfed all over Micah’s kitchen floor.

As I was gobbling down the brown stuff I managed to ask her what the yellow vegetable we’d had for dinner was and she told me but darn it I forgot the name again. It was something squash and that’s all I can remember. Sadly there wasn’t any of that left over or I probably would have had a plate load of it too.

With a full stomach and another hug from Micah, she pushed me out of her kitchen and I’m not sure if she was joking or not, when she said to me, “Al-ben not belong in Micah’s kitchen! Al-ben go away and not come back.”

Actually, come to think about it, Micah was the first friend I made here. I mean, if you can even say that she is my friend, because most of the time, if I try to go into her kitchen, she chases me out with a pot or some other cooking utensil. However, on occasion, like if I come in after school or just before bed, she will let me sit off to the side and eat a little something that she would give to me. I think she took delight in making me try different things and not telling me what she was feeding me. However, nothing ever tasted as bad as that nasty fish had.

It was during those times together that I would tell her about, how it was in California and she would tell me about herself. I found out that Micah was born and raised in Austria and she has only been in the United States for two years. She’s the oldest of twelve children and the last of her brothers and sisters to leave Austria. Micah really is a remarkable woman and I like her a lot.

After leaving the kitchen that first night, I wandered around my grandparents’ home until, completely by chance, I happened upon the door to my room. What was amazing is that during all my wandering, I didn’t once run into either of my grandparents or my own parents. That first run-in with my grandfather was enough to last me a while.

Once safely in my room, I got undressed down to my underwear and was about to get into bed, when I remembered all those GoodNites in the armoire. At first, I didn’t open the armoire; I only stood there contemplating. Eventually, I did open the door, but I didn’t grab a GoodNite; at least not right away. I was having a real mental struggle, but in the end, commonsense won out and I let my underwear drop to the floor. Boy that first GoodNite felt strange, but not so much, that I wasn’t able to get used to it quick enough. I think, I was feeling kind of embarrassed, because where as I was willing at first to get into bed wearing only my underwear, I wasn’t willing to get into bed wearing only the GoodNite. That is when it hit me that all of my clothes were no longer sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed, where John had left them before we went to eat.

I went back to the armoire and swung open the door. I couldn’t believe that before, I had been so focused on the GoodNites, that I hadn’t noticed my clothes. Someone had come into the room and put all of my stuff away in the armoire. What was more amazing was the fact, that all of my clothes, including the hand-me-downs that Mrs. Doleshire had given me, fit into the armoire with all my regular clothes.

“These will do.” I said, pulling out a pair of shorts and slipping them on over the GoodNite.