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Show Moon - 27 to go away. It was one or the other, as if he couldn't make up his mind which one of us he ought to choose. Then my mother and I would climb aboard another train. I danced in the aisles of the trains, a filmy blue cloth wrapped around me, and sang, "I'm Wearing My Alice Blue Gown." People smiled. We slept in berths, curled up together Mama Spoon and Baby Spoon. My favorite berth was the top one because there was a little string hammock you could put things into, and a ladder to go up and down. The velvet curtains were thick and soft, and I could pretend I was a ballerina about to go on stage. Not yet spoiled with the knowledge of perspective, I loved the tiny people. My mother knew this, and she'd call me to the window and point to distant valley, saying, "Look, little people." And sure enough out there were miniature people walking in the fields, working in gardens, standing by a road, sometimes waving to us. In between the trips, we'd be back again with Ruth and Aunt Esther and Grandad, who was almost always upstairs in his room. Once walking home from church, I let Ruth and Esther and my mother walk ahead. I stopped by a garden, stared long and hard at the daffodils. The stories said if you looked carefully enough among the flowers, and if you really believed, then you would see one of them. I saw her then, I was sure of it, a tiny yellow woman with pale green wings and a secret smile on her little face. I went home in an ecstasy of hope, unable to speak to anyone about it. That was another feeling I hung onto, the chest-bursting glimpse telling me what was possible if only you believed enough. One morning after breakfast Esther had the sly smile and hectic pink spots on her cheeks she always had when she was going to hurt me. I'd tried to tell |