I was 10 and my brother was a baby. I must have been home sick from school. I was home sick from school--fall or spring because I didn't need a coat. So, baby brother was a couple of months old or 8 or 9 months old. I'd have been in fifth grade.
My mom had a red print robe--small black and white design, but the red and the quilting were predominate. I loved that robe. It reached almost to the floor when I wore it.
I don't remember what precipitated the event... All I remember was mom grabbing little brother and then my hand and marching us down the street toward Gale Avenue. I remember she said something like, "We're leaving." Whatever the tone of voice I did not question her, which in and of itself would have been a feat. I always had something to say.
I remember reaching Gale Avenue. Was dad home? I don't remember how we got home or why our running-away-from-home ended. Must have been spring of 1959 because that year Aunt Margie came to take care of us and NC and I returned to Virginia with her for the entire summer.
It had to be spring because if mom was that out-of-touch with reality in the fall, how did we make it to spring?
For most people we'd call it post-partum depression. My mom's post-partum happened over and over again even when there was no birth.