I remember a day when I was very small, and my mother took me to a fair, and I got lost. After searching without finding her, I set out for home by myself. I walked up one road, down another, expecting to stumble on something recognizable. But everywhere the unfamiliar houses seemed unfriendly and forbidding, I crept close to a tree in an empty corner lot and fell into the sleep of exhaustion.
At dusk I awakened. The first of night was seeping into the neighborhood, shadow by shadow. A pale wash of sunset pinked chimneys and rooftops. As I watched, the sky darkened to the deep, translucent blue of almost-evening, and a brilliant first star appeared – my own reliable wishing star, right where it belonged.
Suddenly my world was righted. This was the magic time when wishes were made and faces washed, when daddies appeared and babies had baths – a friendly time. Without hesitation, I ran to the nearest door and banged on it. Within an hour I was safely home.
My parents asked why I had waited so long to seek help. I could not explain. I cannot now, except to say that the enchantment of dusk is still upon me, still smoothes away my fears and lifts my spirit.
