Landings & Musings

Alta was a magical forest to my 10 year old eye.  The first snow, heavy and frozen with crystal like diamond spotlights, covered the ground, hung in the boughs of the pine trees, and created a silence that stilled my inner turmoil.  I was surrounded by nature, and the safety of my grandparent's home.  

Each night that first winter, Grandma would make dinner for us where we sit together as a family and talk about our day, or about how to hold the butter knife, and the proper way to place one's eating utensils on one's plate.  A fire would burn brightly in the fireplace, and friends stopped by to play card games or just visit.  I would sometimes sit in a corner and read, or finish my homework at the table once the dishes had been cleared away.  Waiting, listening, watching.  I wondered what changes would interrupt the peace that we had finally found.

The elementary school was so tiny that classes were often doubled up, and I started that year with the third and fourth graders.  I quickly excelled to the top of my class, but had trouble making friends with the other kids in my class.  During recess I would hang back against the rock wall watching kids play tether ball, swing, and create dodge ball teams.  My food obsessions had resulted in a weight problem.  I was out of shape and ashamed of my size, which I attributed to my inability to make friends.  Books became my best friends, and I would eagerly await the arrival of the book mobile.  Flowers in the Attic, The Hobbit, and historical romances became my favorites.  I also continued to gain attention for my art, and continued drawing and painting in my spare time.

Eventually my grandparents were ready for us to settle in to a home of our own.  Mom and Grandpa had a huge fight one night where he made clear that the current living arrangement was temporary.  Mom found us a house to rent next door to the general store, across the street from the fire house.  That spring, shortly after we moved into our new house a snowstorm dropped nearly 6 feet of snow, extending our spring break an additional week and cutting off our power for several days.  Once we had shoveled a path outside our door, the snow was piled way above my head, creating a sort of snow tunnel.  Luckily for us the general store also had a small restaurant adjacent to it, which had a gas stove.  Each evening we would pile on our snow boots, scarves and mittens to trek the 30 or so yards over to the restaurant for a hamburger.  The old times had brought out photos to show us the storm of '59 that depicted snow drifts nearly as high as the power lines.  We would sit around reminiscing with the locals about life in snow country, and quickly learned how to keep ourselves entertained.

One of my favorite activities during this time was to clear a space in my room, which was the entire top floor attic of our A-frame cabin, to create a sort of stage.  I would set up the various chairs and ottomans around the perimeter of my stage, and then I would perform.  My favorites during this time were Hall and Oates, Asia and Foreigner.  I knew the words to all of the songs and would belt them out for hours.  Performing was a good work out, and each night brought some new exciting twist from my imagination.  One night it was that Rick Springfield was in the audience and 'discovered' my talents.  

I was also really into the Anne of Green Gables series and read each book cover to cover.  I really identified with Anne, the protagonist, who was an orphan that had been adopted by a brother and sister in a small town on Prince Edward Island.  I found that I could easily relate to Anne's feelings of not fitting in, of struggling to say and do the right thing, and of being judged by her new community.  I often found it difficult to fit in, and Mom was constantly hissing at me to lower my voice.  At times, she even went so far as to tell me that I was ungrateful, which is just what Mrs. Rachel Lynde, Anne's neighbor would suggest.  

During this time, I would occasionally talk to Mom about my birth mother, as I had begun to think of her often.  I was essentially given the same information, but sometimes she would elaborate and some new piece of information would be revealed that would fill in some of the blanks.  For example, I knew that my birth mom was really young when she gave birth to me.  Mom always said that she wanted to keep me, but that she couldn't.  So my birth mother did the best thing for me, which was to give me up to another family who could raise me.  Mom explained how she picked me out from all of the other babies that were up for adoption, because I was special.  And because she knew that I was her daughter.  One day she revealed to me that my birth mother was from 'back East.'  This really blew my mind.  I didn't know anyone from back East, let alone where someone might live in the East.  We talked about how my birth mother was probably from New York, or maybe even Boston.  I started to make up stories about her.  I imagined that she was probably married by now, and might even have other children.  I thought she might even be of Italian descent, given my dark hair and brown eyes.  I wondered if she might be royalty, and if she ever thought about me.

Little did I know that my birth mother had been living only 150 miles away from where we were now, but that she had recently returned to the East coast with her new husband.  And I had no idea that she had thought of me almost every single day since relinquishing me just 10 years prior.