One of the reasons I think I like going to Disneyland is that it connects me to my family. It is a place where we all went together. Of course, that said, it can bring up memories.
When we first moved to California, the first few months were very hard. Part of it had to do that I had been led to believe that my parents were getting back together. And then even though I knew it wasn’t going to happen, we found ourselves living under the same roof again.
I was only 8, and so part of me was holding onto this weird hope that perhaps I was wrong. The result was that I only left the apartment to go to school. Otherwise I stayed in the apartment, keeping myself busy by cleaning or doing school work. I was so stressed that I actually had a bald spot.
Family who lived in town invited me to join them on their trip to Disneyland. This meant my sister would stay with our parents. I felt a bit guilty, but it was Disneyland. How could I turn that down?
I don’t remember much about the trip, beyond that I had a great time. For a couple of days I got to feel like a kid, and forget about things going on back home.
Of course when I returned, I could feel that things had not gone so well while I was away. One thing I remember clearly was finding a pizza pan on the kitchen counter. It was in a pizza box.
I asked my sister about it, and she wouldn’t go into detail. She just said that they had to leave the restaurant, so took the pizza home. It didn’t sound good.