We have all heard the saying about the elephant in the room. I have a short story about the tiny mouse in my room and the unexpected friendship that ensued.

Picture this: an 11-year-old under the care of two elderly Victorian-era Great Aunts. After school, your allotted playtime is over, and television is allowed during the evening only. No wonder I bonded with the tiny mouse in my room. 

I never named the mouse and had no idea of its gender, but this little critter often hung out with me—it was unafraid of me.

It is freezing in New York City in the winter, and on this particular morning, I slipped on my Keds, which I wore like slippers with mashed-down heels. So, I was sitting on the toilet, minding my business, when I felt movement in the toe of my shoe. The tiny mouse had crawled into my Keds for warmth. Of course, I jumped up screaming, but only because it startled me. When I saw it was my friend, I relaxed.

Watching television in the evening was another occasion for my tiny mouse to come out and sit near me watching the TV. He would stay there a long while. I had to argue with my aunts about this little critter’s status as my friend.

The metaphorical elephant represents an obvious problem or difficult situation that people do not want to discuss. For me, the tiny mouse in the room represented what I did not want to talk about. 

The Tiny Mouse in the room that roared

Although comfortable and well cared for and loved by my Great Aunts, I was still very lonely and missed my mother and family, which were now scattered to the winds. 

After my parents’ separation, my mother could not hack it at the beginning, losing her compass; she would disappear for days, leaving her four children with a ninety-year-old great-grandmother who was very frail. 

I was 7 when my younger sister was 1, and my older brothers were 10 and 8. On one of these fateful occasions, that my mother disappeared. I had early release from school; my brothers did not want to take me home, and my mother was not around, so I sat in the school office being interrogated about where my mother was. Being a typical honest 7-year-old, I said I had not seen Mom for 2 days. Our food rotted on the stove, and my great-grandma cried a lot. 

We ended up separated as a family. My brothers went to live with my grandfather, my sister stayed with my mother, and I stumbled from house to house until I landed at my great-aunt’s place. Aunt Mary became my official Guardian.

The tiny mouse in the room represented my untold, not-discussed situation as a lonely child missing her family. 

As always, I welcome your comments and ideas.