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I first met Elizabeth when she walked into my gift shop, introduced herself and plopped in my chair.

"My legs are so fat," she reported. She was eight years old then. She had red curly hair, fair skin with freckles, bright blue eyes and a very large spirit. Her parents were the new owners of a shop next to mine. She became my assistant and spent her days in my store. We became good buddies.

Every Saturday I'd bring her a little gift. I found itsy bitsy CD singles. They hooked onto a keychain. By the end of the summer, she looked like a maintenance man carrying her CD clip on a belt loop. I bought her sparkly nail polish, candy and other fun little gifts.

She invited me to her class for Jeopardy Science Day. I felt like royalty. When I arrived at the classroom, her eyes lit up! She introduced me to all her friends. I was smiling really big; I was having so much fun. One little boy ran to get me a chair and the little girls led me to my seat. Elizabeth was not happy about that. Getting me seated was her job! These little kids were so thoughtful. Then her dad arrived and she asked, "What are you doing here? Anne and I are going for ice cream after the contest." Her dad grinned at me and sat with the boys. The kids kept peeking at me and whispering. I was sure they were saying, "Elizabeth is so lucky to have her for a friend."

We went for ice cream cones after the contest and sat on the bench. "I really had fun today. Thanks for inviting me," I said. She took a few more licks of her double-dip cone and said, "I told them about you." I thought she meant that she hung out with me at my store and we laughed and had fun. "What did you tell them? I asked curiously.

"I told them that you were a really nice lady and my friend. You suffer from menopause and you can't remember a thing." I almost choked. That's why the little boy ran and got me a chair and the girls led me to my chair. They thought I was disabled!

Elizabeth's parents told me they were her foster care parents and eventually adopted her. This was no secret. I told Elizabeth I was so happy they adopted her. She said, "Yeah. It was pretty tough in foster care. I didn't like it. When I first went to my parents' house, they had two St. Bernard dogs so that made it fun."

A week later we were waiting for customers to arrive when Elizabeth said, "I want to tell you something." She sat on my lap and said, "When my real dad was very sick, my caseworker took me to see him. I had to find the elevator and his apartment. She gave me a paper with his apartment number, 406. She dropped me off out front and I was only five. She should have come with me! I was so scared. I cried in the elevator. I found 406. I knocked three times before my dad opened the door. When he saw me, he smiled really big and gave me a hug." She wiped a tear.

"Dad told me that I was a good girl, and it wasn't my fault that I had to go to foster care. My mom was a drug addict, and he had problems, too, so they couldn't care for me." I am now envisioning my sweet Elizabeth being taken from her home, and tears are dripping all over my shirt. I didn't move to wipe them in fear of breaking the spell. She handed me the tissue box and said, "I never met anyone who cries as much as you do." I tell her it's because I have a tender heart and tears are a good thing. She finishes by telling me, "I just wanted to tell you that. I've been thinking about telling you. No one else knows." She handed me more tissues.

Elizabeth's mom asked if I'd have her overnight so she and her husband could go to a concert. "Well, yes! I'd love to!" She arrived with her backpack, computer, music CD bracelet and a stuffed bear. We made cookies, watched a movie, ate popcorn and she taught me new dance moves. Remember, I have menopause. I am a slow learner. My teenagers rolled laughing at the sight of us.

Elizabeth was not like my kids. She never broke the rules. My store was conveniently located just 15 steps to the ice cream shop. At two in the afternoon, I'd ask, "Want an ice cream cone?" I told her it kept our bones strong. She always had to get permission to have one. My kids would have hidden behind the counter and eaten it without asking. Besides, who says no to ice cream? I was in line ordering our cones when she arrived to say, "Mom said I won't eat my dinner. I can't have one." I offered to share mine with her. She stood firm. The answer was no.

In time I had to close the store. After 9/11, sales plummeted and I really dreaded closing it. There was no choice; it had to close. I promised Elizabeth we'd stay in touch. I gave her money to keep in her purse. If she ever got stuck, I'd come get her. She giggled and asked, "What if I was in trouble? Then would you come get me?" I poked her in the arm and told her, "Absolutely, I would get you then." She poked me back.

We never did keep in touch. My life got busy, and our teens were growing. I drove by her house one day, but it was empty. I was hoping we'd go for ice cream and catch up. No one knew where they moved. Their store had also closed.

How do you lose a little girl? She'd been let down so many times, and I let her down again. We moved to Florida and I still tried to find her address to send her a note and a beach T-shirt. I called my old store neighbors, hoping someone might know where they moved, but no one knew. It's been eight years now, so she's 16. I wonder what she's like. I bet she still has that curly red hair, and her blue eyes still sparkle. I pray she still has that huge spirit and lights up rooms when she walks in.

If anyone ever meets a girl matching that description, please ask her if she ever had a friend with menopause named Anne. Please ask her to use the coins in her purse to call me. Tell her I love and miss her - and I won't lose her again.

- Anne Bardsley

Anne Bardsley is the author of How I Earned My Wrinkles: Musings on Marriage, Motherhood and Menopause. She's been featured on Scary Mommy, humorwriters.org, Better Writers After 50, local magazines and more. She barely survived raising five children and is so glad she didn't strangle them as teenagers. Grandchildren have erased those late night, missed curfew, memories. She lives in St Pete, Fla., with her husband and two spoiled cockapoos.