Companions

Image By: Integrity Studio

December 1982

Dear MaryJanes,

We have moved to another rental and once again, we are out in the country. The house we are renting is a charming old farmhouse and I feel it is a better living conditions. I have witnessed a few things that our previous neighbors had done and I know these images and memories will never leave me. I struggle not to replay the events in my mind and find it hard to block them out. There was a couple that rented another duplex on the same driveway that we had lived on and their life style was bizarre to say the least. This family consisted of a man and a woman about my age and her 2 year old son. This man also owned a pet mountain lion and kept it in a cage up on a flat roof top. This is Wisconsin, and owning a mountain lion is not the norm. The young woman ran to our rental every now and then to escape the man's temper flare ups. I have seen the bruises that she has received on her legs and I don't know how she can bare the pain. I have tried to convince her to leave him, but she never does. I feel frustrated and bewildered that she chooses to stay. I suppose my family draws the same conclusion about me. At our previous place on a nice autumn day, I had let the two dogs outside. I later heard gun shots, which is not all that uncommon while living in the country, among acres of woods. After an extended period of time, I called for the dogs to return. Being extremely obedient I was surprised when Kari did not return with Dagmar. The neighbors in the opposite direction of the driveway have a yellow lab which is standing outside in our yard, this was unlike him. I approached him and found a bullet hole on his side. He has been shot......where is Kari? I yell and scream for her with no response. Your father is at work which is at least a 30 minute drive. I never ask him for anything but I call and tell him what is happening at home and ask him to please come come, and drive fast.
We searched the woods and though I was 7 months pregnant with you, I walked those woods, searching for hours. I am heart broken. A few weeks later we move to our new place without the presents of my best companion.

Image by Bonnie Jones

I have convinced myself that you will be a boy. Your father finds this insight to his liking as much as he can fathom the whole concept of fatherhood. You are being referred to as The Little Racer.
I have come to my own medical conclusion that the more stress you have when you are pregnant, the more apt you are to have 24 hour nausea. I am sick from one morning to the next.

I do my best to make your nursery cute. I use vintage items that I have collected through out the years. I don't have much to put inside your dresser and no stock pile of diapers to use. I have the very bare minimum from what I received from your baby shower. If anyone appreciated a baby shower, it was me! Now I wait. I begin to get anxious about your arrival. I am excited to welcome you into my life. I dream about what you might be like. Who will you look like?

I like the yard in this new place. I spend allot of time just sitting on the porch watching Dagmar run around and play. She has taken a liking to the beagle a crossed the road. She listens well and has a funny sense of humor. I think she realizes that she humors me. It helps to have her around, especially since the loss of Kari is so recent.
On a warm autumn day I was enjoying being outside and watched as Dagmar darted over to the beagle's yard, something I try to discourage. I called her back and I saw her stop quickly in her tracks. She was returning to me, right into the path of a truck with a trailer. I called her to her own death.
I think I might curl up and die myself. This life is just too hard, and I don't know what more I can take. With this series of events I start to worry that something might be wrong with you. Has God got it in for me? Am I being tested to see just how much I can withstand? Are you ok? Is all this stress effecting you? I start to talk to you, I now am aware that all of this turmoil must be unsettling for you. I am so sorry that this has not been a peaceful journey for you. I promise I will comfort you when you arrive.
Now Hush Little Baby.

Love,
Galoshes