New York City

I don't remember much from those first days and weeks. I was so young, and so much was going on. There was a lot to take in and digest. We lived with a family in Brooklyn who believed that they were rescuing us. They had a son who was a bit older than me and we would play together, be ridden around in an old-fashioned baby carriage. I learned English quickly and forgot all of my Norwegian. Later on I would fight with other kids about my mother.
I told them I didn't have one, that I never did. I cried when a little girl said that every kid has one. I DID NOT, EVER!! said I.
I was very sad. I remember having nightmares at night and feeling terrified of the dark. I remember seeing silhouettes of lions from my bed. I developed an anxiety disorder around then, and felt panic a lot of the time. My father did not take well to my questions about my mother. He threw stuff at me when I mentioned her. I cried myself to sleep. I wanted her, I wanted my father, I wanted them both to love me and I wanted and needed both in my life. But now I had to forget my mother in order to survive life with my father. I had no choice, so I had to leave her behind.