I titled it Letters, A Mother’s Secret, A Daughter’s Secret.
The format of the book is my mother’s letters, and I responded by writing letters back to her. She wrote the letters between the years of 1956 and 1967 to the Holt Adoption Agency. They were heartfelt, chatty, first they were a sort of application to adopt, and after the children came, it was about the little things children do, and how precious they were to her. She had a sounding board in Grandma Holt. I am amazed the agency kept the letters and sent them to my step-dad, and that eventually they found me.
Before computers and emails and all the blogging and twittering and whatever that people do now, letters were the primary means of communication. I consider it to be a miracle that they survived and found me. Perhaps I am entering into the Hawaiian way, that there is no separation between us and our ancestors.
Mom had a secret in that I was a love-child. I had a secret as well, and finally telling her, even years after her death, was liberating.
Speaking of children…here on the home front we will soon have to call Baby Darling (BD) Little Boy Darling for he is growing so fast we believe he is taller in the morning than he was the night before. And he uses sign language we didn’t teach him. He invented it. Button, he loves buttons, pushing the elevator button, the washing machine button, Grandpa’s computer buttons especially, and even button’s on shirts. The sign is his pointer finger pressed in the palm of his other hand. At night he graces us with a high-five and a hug before bed. What happens to the time and the years?
Until last week BD basically went barefooted. Last week DD put little surf shoes on him and walking down our road those shoes did the driving. He had to run—it was more like a stagger—to keep up with them. DD said, “When did I put drunken shoes on you?” This week he has shoes mastered.
These shoes are meant for walking
Last weekend Husband Dear and I took out the toilet, placed ceramic tiles under its space, and ran off to Hawaii to allow tiles to dry. I had painted the brown wooden walls of the bathroom aqua, and we are putting down white tiles on the floor. The toilet is back in, but Lordy, we haven’t completed the rest of the floor. Putting down 4 x 4 tiles is worse than cleaning the refrigerator, mowing the yard and a few other things thrown in. You have to get down onto the floor! Oh, yes, and up again.
DD and I have decided that Hawaii is a catalyst; it catapults you to the next great thing. I was reading that Hawaii is a “Hot Spot,” an area on the planet where consciousness rages. Do you know what I mean? It is a place where energies collect, and amplify one’s connection to the divine, one’s inner consciousness, Intuition, God, whatever one wishes to call it.
Some think Sedona Arizona is one such place. A friend told me that the Grandfathers will chase you away from Sedona, now I wonder about Hawaii. Perhaps the Grandmothers are chasing us away, saying, “Don’t sit here, go out, do, fulfill your dreams.”
We’re trying.
What is it Yoda said? “Don’t try, do.”
