After The Crumbs

"Chrissy, what are you doing?"

"Just writin' Mama,." I smiled. Little did I know I was having the
first conversation that would eventually lead to my dream&;#8230;the
dream of becoming a writer.

I wasn't quite five years old when I begged my Mother to teach me to
read and write. I had a pad of paper and Daddy's fountain pen and was
scribbling away as fast as I could. My

Mother and Daddy were good critics as they complimented me on what I
had just pretended to write.

I remember the day I begged Mom to teach me to read and write.

"You are only four years old!" I remember mom saying.

"But, mom&;#8230;you and daddy can read and write. Show me how!" I
pleaded. Soon after that we were in the GOODWILL STORE and there was a
huge chalk board sitting on easel legs. It had a roller on the top with
the alphabet, words and pictures to match. It soon became one of my
prized possessions.

With this, some dime store chalk and a lot of patience I was taught to
write. My Mother was very pleased with how determined and dedicated I
became. When I was five I started into the first grade and already
could read and print my name. I was shy and quiet but I would sit for
hours and read my LITTLE GOLDEN BOOKS and tell tall tales to my
dad.

Time passed quickly and I found myself in a creative writing class my
senior year. My teacher was very supportive and encouraged me by
telling me that I should write a book one day. That was 30 odd years
ago. I cannot remember her name but I certainly remembered her
words.

Life sometimes gets in the way of dreams. I graduated high school at
age seventeen and had been married for five months. No particular
reason to get married except than I was in love and the year was 1968
and the Viet Nam war was raging. Shortly out of high school he was
drafted and I followed my husband to Georgia and then to Alaska.

Unlike many of the others he stayed state side. He was never one to be
tied down and I should have known when I was left night after night in
that frozen wilderness that I was on the road paved to marital
disaster. I spent time writing and wishing for the safety of
home.

Back home in Ohio was a long way away and I had plenty of time to write
of my loneliness.

The winters in Alaska are very long and depressing when left alone most
of the time.
I asked for a baby and felt blessed when my prayers were answered.
Finally I didn't feel so alone when he was out with his buddies because
I had my child growing inside. I started a notebook that I would put my
feelings into. I was thrilled about becoming a mother and wanted to
share these feelings someday with my little one.

Some things are not meant to be. Four months into the pregnancy I woke
in the middle of the night scared and alone and realized that I was
loosing my child. The next morning I awoke in the hospital room to find
strangers at my bedside explaining what had happened and asking if I
could tell them where my husband was.
I
was too young to realize that this was a form of abuse.

I returned and began to pack up the tiny apartment. It was 1971 and his
tour was ending and we were heading back to Ohio, just the two of us.
We planned to drive the long trip home and to enjoy the beautiful
springtime and the country side. I planned on starting a book about the
adventures that we would encounter and the sights we would see
together.

That was before he decided he would rather share that with a "buddie"
and I should fly home, after all I did just loose a baby and the trip
might not be good for me. Just like that it was settled&;#8230; two
days later I arrived in Columbus, Ohio.

It was good to finally be HOME. Mom and Dad were waiting and all the
homesickness of the and loneliness seemed to melt away. It was
wonderful to feel my parents arms around me once again. It seemed that
nothing could hurt me there.

Driving back to the family farm I was amazed at how so much had changed
in less than two years. It seemed I had been away a short lifetime
until daddy's old Ford turned onto the familiar gravel driveway. I was
home!

Several days later I was beginning to worry since I hadn't heard a word
from my husband. Later that evening I heard footsteps on the old porch
and there he stood. The car had broken down somewhere in the Dakotas
and he sold it for a ride to the airport and a ticket home. Everything
we had owned was in that old 1956 Chevy. Part of me was sold there
too&;#8230; my notebook containing all my thoughts, hopes and dreams
vanished&;#8230; lost to me forever. Once again my dream was put on
hold.

1971 I became pregnant again and once again I thought my loneliness
would disappear. I realized that my marriage was not at all what I had
hoped it would be. He spent all his free time playing with the guys. He
would take the coil wire from the car so I would have to remain at home
while he was off and about. We were living with my parents so I had
people who cared close by.

May 2, 1972 I gave birth to a baby boy. He was two months premature and
was rushed to Childrens Hospital. I barely remember hearing the news as
I woke up.

What I do remember are my husbands words, "you are young, you can
always have another. I'm tired, I'm going home now." That was the last
I heard from him for the next two days.

I went home from the hospital alone without even touching my newborn
son. Michael remained in the hospital without much hope of survival. I
prayed and then I prayed some more. I felt alone again.

My prayers were answered and after 13 days I brought my tiny son home.
He was smaller than a doll baby, weighing only 4lbs. 11 ounces. He grew
in leaps and bounds and so did the distance between my husband and I.
He was spending more and more time away and the quiet time I had
planned to use to write was non-existent. He became harsh and very
childlike himself and resented Michael and the time I spent with
him.

Eventually, I knew the time had come that I needed to take my boy and
run. He was becoming rougher and rougher and I could tell abuse was
right around the corner. It didn't seem to matter much the words as I
was leaving were, "fine, you wanted him and you can take care of
him."

The next six months waiting for the divorce was full of threats and
demands but, secretly, after eight years of marriage, I think he was
relieved&;#8230; he was free to play again.

1974 another miracle on the way. Only this time I had found a man who
made all my nightmares disappear. He taught me to love and to trust and
to redefine what family meant. He treasured Michael as his own and was
only too happy to grant my wish of another child. With two small
children and a full-time job I still wanted to write but once again,
life put that dream on hold.

Year 2000&;#8230;The new millennium!
I have lived through a potentially abusive relationship that I am
thankful I had the good sense to get away from. I have raised two
wonderful children with the help and support of my husband of 26 years.
I have survived the anguish of being a mid-life orphan after the death
of my remaining parent last year. I have retired at the age of 50 and
will be a grandmother before Christmas. I have met many good friends
who support my goals and dreams.

I will begin another journey now&;#8230; the one that I have waited
to travel for so long.
For thirty-three years I have waited to live the dream. I have gathered
memories and many life experiences.

Through tears, laughter, and cookie crumbs I can now become a
writer.