It Could Be Worse….It Could Be Worse…

I repeated that phrase in my head over and over in the weeks after I kicked Bill out.  I watched my older sister go through the death of her son.  I still had my children. I needed to hold onto that thought.  If I lost one, my life would end. My life wasn't going to end but having someone hurt one of your children is only trumped by losing them.  Every waking thought was filled with fear of how I could save my Sissy from this awful, awful pain from the man she loved and trusted most. 

When Sissy came home that day, I wrapped her in my arms and explained to her how her father had confessed and that I removed him from the house.  Her little body shook with sobs that came from her toes.  “I trusted him with my life mom,” she cried “and he let me down in the biggest way.” 

“Oh, baby,” I tried to sooth her and set her 15 year old  body on my lap and rocked her like the baby she would always be to me. “I am so proud of you for telling me sweetie.  We will get through this somehow.” 

She was going to need intense therapy, perhaps the rest of her life.  We needed to start that process.  I needed to explain to her that when we contacted a therapist, they would need to contact the authorities and start the prosecution process of her father.  I also realized that being the High School Secretary – I was a mandated reporter and by law, was required to report even a suspicion of child abuse. 

She slept with me that night, and many nights after.  She began sleeping with a light on and still does to this day.  I held her close that night and smoothed her hair and wiped her tears each time she woke up and her trauma came rushing back into her heart.  We shared a pillow.  It was soaked with tears by the morning.

When she woke up, I brought her a cup of cocoa in bed.  We snuggled together while she sipped it.  Then I began the conversation with her that I dreaded.  I explained to her that the pain in her heart needed to come out.  If she left it there, it would come out some way and probably not a healthy way.  I wanted her heart to heal, but we needed someone who knew what they were doing-a professional- to heal it in the very best way. 

“Can I talk to Mrs. Sun the counselor at school mom?”  She questioned.

“Of course Sweetie we can start there and she will help us.” Then I added “But honey, any counselor will need to report this to the police.” 

She dropped her mug and the chocolate spread across the comforter.

“Mommy, please don’t send my daddy to jail.”

Before I could answer, she was up and running to the bathroom.  What hot cocoa she did get down was coming back up.  

Time To Back and Back and Visit The Day My World Fell Apart…

Back in time to two years ago....there I sat, in the passenger seat, shaking, still holding my phone.  I sent a text back to Sissy saying “I will fix it.  I love you and am so proud of you for being brave enough to tell me.  I will see you soon.”  Though I had no idea what-so-ever how I was going to fix this.  THIS had to be the worst event that had ever happened in our lives.  The only thing worse than someone hurting your child is losing that child.  I kept telling myself “you have both children, hold onto that.”

By this time Bill, having turned the car around to head back home, is freaking out.  “What is wrong?  Why are you crying?  Is Sissy OK?”  He is starting to tear up and pound on the steering wheel.  Funny, I actually felt bad for him for a minute…just a minute.  Then that brief moment disappeared and I told him we would talk when we got home. 

We drove up our tree lined driveway finally.  The dogs happily greeting us as we parked.  Oh, how I loved my labs.  I couldn’t start thinking what would happen to them now.  I was in such shock.  I calmly walked into our cheery house.  I set my purse down in the dining room I had just finished painting a gorgeous mint color that week.  I told Bill to go sit down and I would tell him what was ruining my world.

Bill went into our bedroom.  He sat on the bed he had bought me for my 30^th birthday (as an expression of his love).  It was a green wrought iron canopy style. Doves intertwined on the head board and lace curtains hung from all four sides.  I couldn’t bring myself to even think about our “love” much less look at that bed now.

“Sissy just told me you touched her inappropriately.”  I calmly stated.

“NO!” he yelled.  “She is my princess and I would never do that?”

“Bill, Sissy wins the benefit of the doubt in this one….I will always pick her and believe her, you have to know that.”

Bill begins to cry at this point. There he sat in the khaki shorts and sporty Nike dress shirt I had picked out for him to wear to the wedding.  He buried his face in his hands.

“Maybe she dreamt it?  Maybe she misunderstood my actions at some point?”

I just stood there staring at him. Here was the man I had spent 23 years with.  I knew every line on his face, the way his silver hair flipped in the front when I gelled it for him.  I knew every mole and scar on his body.  I thought I knew his darkest fears and biggest dreams…..how could I have not known he was capable of this? 

We had had our share of marital difficulties that is for sure.  He had been unfaithful in the beginning of our marriage.  We went to counseling and overcame that.  He started online chatting with other women when we got our Internet, again back to counseling.  Eventually, I had to buy a spy program to see exactly where he went on the Internet. Getting Bill to fess up to any wrongdoing was almost impossible.  Buying the program at least gave me the opportunity to confront him with the truth.   I should have questioned my need to still stay with him then….I mean what kind of marriage is that when you have to spy on your husband?  Some of the places he visited online were so sexual in nature that back to counseling we went AGAIN.  I knew he had issues with sex…but THIS?  I didn’t see this coming and I had no spy program to confront him with the truth now.  So much was at stake in his life at the moment that I knew if I didn’t think of some other angle to get to the truth, then he would grasp onto his denial forever.

“Bill,” I began, “I am scared that something might have happened to you when you were little…something that may have damaged you and caused you to do something similar to Sissy.” 

I put my hand reassuringly on his shoulder.  I dug deep down inside to try and find any acting skills I may have and I worked them.  I gave him the most ‘I love you and will help you find your demons’ look that I could muster.

It worked.  I hit a vein.  I found his wound, opened it up and convinced him I was willing to help him heal it.  He grabbed my hands, buried his face into my stomach as I stood in front of him.  Sobs racked his body. 

“Yes,  Tarie, Oh, God, yes, my brother John touched me when I was little, that is why I touched Sissy.” 

Stupid, stupid, sick man.  He actually thought I cared about what had happened to him.  He had no idea I was pretending to give a shit just to get him to tell me the truth. 

Caring, sympathetic Tarie disappeared, instead Linda Blair from ‘The Exorcist’ Tarie appeared.  I pushed Bill back away from me and in the lowest most demonic voice that came from my toes I said, 

“GET OUT.”

  I must have stood there watching him, not moving, I am not sure if I was even breathing, for over a half and hour.  My hands hung loosely down my sides.  My heart felt as if it had turned to stone.  Amazingly, my pulse stayed slow and my blood pressure seemed stable.  I felt the strangest “click” just then on my left hand.  A tiny little snap on my ring finger.  I brought may hand up to my face, my wedding ring twinkling at me, and turned my hand around to look at the band. 

It had snapped. 

Completely through.

On it’s own. 

When Exactly Does the Straw Break That Camel’s Back?

OK readers, (though at this moment there are none…just my heart talking to the universe) I haven’t let you in on all of my pain yet.  I figured – Gee, isn’t it enough to go through your husband molesting your daughter, find love again, only to have it walk away?  That is pretty depressing in itself.  Well, I guess my Karma or whatever doesn’t think that is enough. 

My brother died a couple months ago.  I thought there was enough pain in this blog to write about so I accepted God’s will and told him “good bye” privately.  It’s hard I tell you….so hard, I thought at times my heart would break.  This is the second sibling I have lost.  My oldest sister died after complications from Gastric Bypass surgery.  That was five years ago.  THAT broke my heart.  I started smoking then (sue me) and have spent those last years grieving, but hoping that she was watching over me throughout mine and Sissy’s ordeal.  Then brother died.  OK, God….fine…he was unhealthy…..you chose to take him - it is Your will.  I am still grieving the loss of him.  He adored Sissy and I.  He wished death upon Bill…..what a good big brother.  I pray he and my sister are now both watching over us.  Now, for the kicker…I am number 7 of 7 children.  I lost number 1 and number 4.  Number 6 was just flown out on life-support to the big city hospital yesterday.  Her heart “blew up” was the explanation I was given.  The life-flight EMT’s told her husband “Be prepared, it doesn’t look good.” 

She made it through the night last night.  Number 2 sister is with her.  I got the call from work and tried very hard to have a nervous breakdown.  My co-workers gave me full permission to go ahead and go “bye bye” in my brain if I needed to.  God dammed if I didn’t.  Nope, my blood pressure just soared and I had to come home.  NO escaping this reality yet.  My brain is too strong.  Lucky me.

So today, I sit by the phone.  I smoke on and off.  I wonder what kind of camel am I that my back isn’t broken yet? 

Do Friends Make You Let Go of Your Dreams and Goals?

After Sissy and I had our “Fun” evening at the Juvenile Department, Dale’s question nagged at me.  Sissy, unbeknown to Dale, had a very healthy grasp on who her true friends were.  I realized that perhaps, I did not. 

I have missed Wilson horribly.  I can’t seem to move an inch in our tiny cottage without seeing a treat or gift that he brought Sissy and I during one of his visits.  I look at my phone in the evenings wishing it to play “1,2,3,4 I love you” by the Plain White Tees – Wilson’s ring tone.  I miss talking to him everyday hearing his low, wonderful voice, or seeing his “FyreFyter” email pop up in mine.

I missed every moment we spent together in the last two years.  I wanted to bring him to staff parties again watch him work the room with his charm only to come back and wrap his arm around me.  I want him to surprise me again after showers with a warm towel from the dryer…wrap the towel then his arms around me.  I want to watch as he gives Sissy more driving lessons.  I want to see him take her by the hand again and introduce him to his family members.  I want to bring him coffee in bed in the mornings.

He breathed life back into me when I was still trying to wake up from the Bill nightmare.  He showed Sissy what a normal, loving man was and what it could mean to her and I.  He talked me into bungee jumping off of a bridge tied to him!  We felt it was a literal and spiritual leap for both of us.  (I don’t need to literally do it again though…thank you very much)  But it was an experience I will never regret…nor any of the time spent with him. 

I have been wrestling with my heart and soul whether I should have ever brought up commitment with him.  Did I make a huge mistake and lose the love of my life? 

We tried to talk one last time.  I wanted so deeply to convey to him how I felt.  He felt that what I was telling him was that all he had done for Sissy and I just wasn’t enough.

 “Why can’t you accept that simply opening my house to you and Sissy is the biggest commitment I can make?  I will never get married again or merge financially with another person again Tarie…I just can’t take the risk of losing half of what I have again.”

(His ex took half of his retirement and left him with huge debts financed into his house)  I tried to convince him to look at my past behavior – to see how I had been entirely different from his ex in my own divorce.  Though I should have taken Bill for everything he owned, PLUS his retirement, I never did.  I asked for my part of the house and walked away.  I promised Wilson that if it ever came time to talk about marriage or a financial merger, I would be willing to go to 5 different lawyers and sign 5 different contracts just so he would feel protected.

He said, “Those never hold up in court.”

Hmmmmm…..I think they would have.  I think perhaps, it is more so his heart that he is protecting other than his bank account.   I don’t want Wilson’s money, I wanted his heart. 

I tried to approach the subject of why I had even brought up commitment in the first place.  I was so over protective of Sissy.  He would be the only man I was willing to let in her life…but not if he couldn’t give us all of his heart.  He was not going to merge into Sissy’s life, be a father figure, and refuse to merge completely into mine.

He told me not to use Sissy as a pawn in the breakdown of our relationship.

I couldn’t speak for a while after I hear those awful words.  I choked back sobs.

The excruciating pain in his divorce came from losing money.  My pain (other than the obvious that Bill had hurt my daughter) was from losing my Faerieland….my garden….my rocks….my moss.  When I could finally speak again I explained through tears to Wilson that my one big dream was to own land to put my heart into again.

He quietly replied,  “I can’t ever give you that.”     

I

Hung

Up.

I haven’t spoken to him since.  He sent Sissy and I cards expressing his sorrows for the relationship ending.  It didn’t make us feel much better. 

So….today I put this thought on my heart and will let it sit there for a while….see what becomes of it~~~~~

If Wilson really loved me and was my true friend, he would want me to reach my dreams.  He would want to do it with me.  If he loved Sissy and wanted to be a family with her and I….he would.  

A Week of Discoveries...

I woke the other morning to the sound of pounding coming from Sissy’s room.  I found her with her “mega squirt gun” in hand beating on the ceiling.  “Listen Mom, there is a squirrel in my ceiling!  He’s been scurrying back and forth and woke me up last night!”  Sure enough, I could hear scratching and pitter pattering back and forth too.  I told her I would get on the ladder outside and see what I could find in the attic.  One of the first things I noticed about our century old cottage was the attic entry OUTSIDE above the back door.  Battered shutters with a small chunk of wood used for a “lock” were the only barrier between the attic and the outdoors and any critters that lived near us. 

I climbed up to the opening, Sissy behind me handing me various sized flash lights.  The attic was approximately four feet tall and 20 feet wide with no clear vision above Sissy’s room.  As I was peering in, Sissy said “Um Mom, I think our “Squirrel is watching you.”  I looked up only to see our blue-eyed Siamese Zackary, the emotional needy cat, peering down from the roof curiously at me.  He must have been the pitter patter that we heard above Sissy’s room.  Upon seeing us, he began to whine and wheeze.  He is the only cat I know that constantly sounds like he has “kitty asthma” and feels like he must be held at all times.  He started to cry and I handed him down the ladder to Sissy’s waiting arms. (in a future posting I will fill you all in on Zackary’s very sad history and how we acquired him…it is too sad to goin into now)

My curious girl then wanted her turn to check out the attic.  The next thing I know she is up the ladder and crawling back through 100 year old insulation while exclaiming “OHHHHHH….Cooooool.”  She started handing dusty items down to me almost immediately.  “Mom, I found treasures!” She yelled.  Out came a decrepit looking suitcase,  a gunny sack with pieces of scrolled wood tied inside, and a three part hinged screen complete with the original vintage fabric intact!

We brought each very dirty item into the house, dropping insulation along the floor.  I was told later it was probably FULL of asbestos.  The suitcase was locked, but we eventually picked the lock only to find….air in it.  It did have a tag, a date – 11/08/02 and the name Mrs. Alan Dreffield on it though.  The scrolled pieces of wood looked to be a sewing cabinet that had been dismantled and saved.  We will be handing it over to my brother in law to restore.  The screen is beautiful!  The wood is old and, chippy, painted a shabby cream color.  The antique fabric is a burgundy and cream damask with roses and paisley swirls.

I have been a “rummager” all my life.  There are countless items I brought with me to our cottage that I rescued from the barn, chicken coop, and attics at Hank and Maud’s homestead.  During the years married to Bill I have rescued, a stone topped wash-stand, an iron Victrola stand and pieces of Roseville Pottery just to name a few discoveries. 

Sissy and I had the best time together cleaning up our new found items and displaying them in our cottage.  We know that Mrs. Alan Dreffield is happy that we rescued her belongings.  They are now very precious to us.

The next night was another night for discovery….just not treasures in the attic.  Sissy and I had to sit before the Juvenile Diversion Board as a consequence to her newly acquired MIP Halloween weekend. 

We arrived at the County Juvenile waiting room to find it quite full with only two places left to sit.  The group that waited with us I would have to say had probably never been the type of gathering that that particular waiting room had seen.  I would have to assume that the usual category of “perps’ that waited here ranged from “at risk youth”, “gangster want-to-be’s”, and poor teenagers with no family support.  Our group was compromised of the ASB president and his parents, two star girl’s basketball players and their parents, two varsity cheerleaders (one being Sissy) with mommies, and the National Honor Society president with his mother.  If you averaged the GPA of the students in the room it was easily 3.9.  Each student was a member of one or more volunteer clubs at school – Key Club, NHS, and Student Counsel just to name a few.  You would think this group should have been waiting together to apply for scholarships and not Minor In Possession repercussions.

One by one the students were called into the inner rooms with their parents.  The clock slowly ticked on as one by one….each child emerged with their parents….bawling.  Sissy and I were last.  The probation officer came out finally to tell us we had been put into the last spot as there was a conflict with both of us and a member of one of the panels.  (We later found out he was Bill’s best friend and asked to be removed from our panel)  When finally it was our turn, we were led back to sit before three people.  A Juvenile supervisor Teresa, and older man Dale, and an elderly woman Nicki.    Before Sissy had even sat down Nicki barraged her with questions.  “If you are such an upstanding student why were you at a party with alcohol?  What in the hell were you thinking?  Did you know there was POT at this party which is also illegal?  I don’t care how much you drank or what you blew – ANY amount of alcohol in you, young lady, is ILLEGAL.  So you want to be a nurse?  What nursing school is going to let you in with THIS in your past?”  Sissy lip began quivering almost instantly.  Huge tears slid down her face.  Dale asked her what kinds of friends she really had.  “Do friends make you let go of your dreams and goals?  I think not.” He roared.  

I knew what their objective was.  I knew that the kids that sat before them needed this “Scared Straight” tactic.  I didn’t feel for one minute that Sissy shouldn’t face consequences for her actions.  I didn’t want to make excuses for her….at all…..but then when Nicki barked “What did YOU think MOM when you got the call that your GOOD daughter just received an MIP?”

 

I did it….I pulled the “Bill Card”.  Didn’t want to, didn’t think it was prudent…but I looked over at my reason for living…sobbing in the chair next to me and answered:

“I thought that this little girl before you has made it through a trauma that none of us should ever have to face.  Do you happen to know our story, this being such a small town?”  They each nodded and said Yes, they were aware of what we had gone through with her father.  “My girl,” I continued “has pulled herself up by her boot-straps from a situation that would have emotionally ruined most children her age.”  I swallowed the lump growing in my throat.  “We have been through a nightmare because of the actions of her father.  I watch her continue to smile each day, when she shouldn’t.  Watch her do her homework and get good grades when she should be “cutting and puking”.   I saw her shine on when she should have been dulled by this horrendous incident.”   I thought back to the moment I did get the call about her MIP and said “I was frightened that her scars may have caught up with her and was sending her down that slippery slope of drinking to dull her pain.  I was terrified of our nightmare finally taking her from me.”

They all sat there.  Said nothing.  Blinked a few times.  Then promptly gave Sissy:

16 hours of community service

6 hours of Alcohol classes

2 hours at a victim’s panel

Suspended her driver’s permit

Put her on probation until February 18^th (Her father’s birthday)

So much for playing the “Bill Card”.  Yep, it could have been worse, BUT, it could have been like two of the other children who sat before the panel with Bill’s best friend.  They were given ESSAYS TO WRITE. 

 

That’s it. 

ESSAYS. 

We walked the block home to our cottage (how nice and convenient that we live so close to the Juvenile).  Sissy sobbed and hiccuped all the way home to her bed.  I lay with her until she stopped.  Then, I spent the next two hours convincing her that she WAS a wonderful, strong, smart, brave young lady.  She WOULD become a nurse someday.  She would triumph over the Bill nightmare.  She would accept that for some reason God felt THIS great group of kids needed to be caught and stopped before they strayed from their individual path of greatness.  And that maybe….Nicki’s wrinkly, snarly, old self was put on this earth to help little Gangsters….but she wasn’t needed to scare my little princess straight.  Sissy has already shown the path she’s headed down….and it is looking pretty good…and straight.  

Life on the Little Hill....

I lost count of how many different gardens I created.  I was outside everyday, hauling rocks, digging the big pond, creating pathways, moving moss (I am weird - I love moss), planting fairy tale Ivy to trail over my newly built stone walls.  I loved my Faerieland.  I built a small home business building trellises, arbors etc. and named it "Faerieland Creations".  When I wasn't beautifying my own landscape, I was busy building something lovely for someone else's garden.  


Sissy tagged along with me, sweetly keeping me company.  Her brother, 7 years older, was attending school daily while Sissy was content to stay home and play in the dirt with her mama. 


Together (with help from two happy Labs and our many felines) we dug the 5 ft. deep pond and added a waterfall.  We planted  and sank pots of lily pads and added many koi fish.  Sissy loved feeding the fish cat food and the dogs loved to wade in the pond after the cat food.  We built stone steps and pathways up to the upper garden.  The land was in 3 different "layers" and we did our best t connect them all together.  We planted an herb garden with a winding path through each raised and different shaped herb bed.  More steps and a pathway appeared and led visitors to a lower garden beneath the giant bird boulder.  One weekend Bill, the kids and I all worked together and constructed a brick patio perched on the edge of the hill.  A hop covered Arbor kept us out of the sun and rain. A bubbling "bird pond" nestled next to it gave us "garden music" while we sat watching sunsets on our new sitting area.  


Many evenings Bill and I sat on the patio, sipping micro-brews (our favorite beverage) and gazed down the valley.  We held hands as the sun would set and frequently commented that THIS was the bliss we wanted our whole lives. Bill liked to pick rose buds and tuck them behind my ear.  We'd sit out there until the light faded and sometimes stayed longer with lighted,twinkling candles in jars around us.  We'd leave our special place only to plan to come back in the morning and have coffee together.  Booboo had built us a bird house that hung above the patio. The wren couple that moved in greeted us every sunrise.  Bill and I named them Peter and Lois(from Family Guy of course) and spent many a coffee hour enjoying watching them flit in and out of their own little blissful home.  


On weekends we would hike with the children (and dogs and sometimes cats) to the top of the hill that continued behind the house.  We loved to pick the wildflowers in the spring and crawl along the moss covered out cropping of huge boulders.  We all could feel the magic of our mossy hill and never wanted to come down off of it.  We loved to look down on our house, pond, gardens and see how it was ever changing with each year.  


The children grew, the dogs got old and then there were new dogs, and always a new litter of kittens.  The place continued to change and grow as did the love among us.  Maud and Hank, living a short walk away, spent many an hour with us.  They had finally accepted me into the family, adored the children, and treated me like a daughter...how I always hoped they would.  


Booboo grew into an intelligent, lovely young man.  He graduated from High School and left us for college.  Maud still worked at the High School during Boo's years there.  Periodically, I would sub in the office for her on her sick days.  I loved working in the school.  I adored the kids, staff, parents and principal.  Because Maud was so negative in her position, everyone seemed to breathe sighs of release on my work days.  Before I knew it, Maud was asked to "use her book keeping talents" and become a full time ASB Book Keeper...in her own private office....away from the students and public.  The district asked that I please take over the High School Secretary position.  I jumped at the chance.  THIS was the job I was meant to have.  I had a lot of love to give and wanted to spread it at Oakville High School.  Even Maud, in her well practiced martyrdom voice said "I never thought anyone could take my place, but you have and very well...*sigh*" I loved the school's schedule and spent my summers back out in the garden with Bill and Sissy and Boo when he came home to visit.  


Each day Sissy grew more beautiful inside and out.  She realized her love for dance and joined the Middle School Drill Team.  We were amazed at how quickly she excelled with this talent.  We weren't surprised when she tried out her freshman year for varsity cheerleader - and made it.  She was popular with her friends, kind to all, bubbly, energetic, witty, happy and pretty much a dream to any parent.  In the spring she joined Bill's softball team and loved being coached by her father.  The local sports photographer snapped a shot of Bill and Sissy, matching uniforms, with their arms around each other that was so adorable he printed it in our local small town paper.  


Little did we know, in less than a year....Bill's face and the horrifying charges against him would make the front page of our small town paper.  

There Once Was a Happy Little Family on a Happy Little Hill...

Much to Maud’s disappointment, we stayed married.  We had a beautiful premature baby boy who was whisked away in a helicopter moments after birth.  His lungs were not developed so he was flown to a neonatal intensive unit in a larger city.  When this incident is recapped by Maud, she tells all listening how very hard it was on her.  I laid in a hospital bed with my gut cut open and holding an invisible baby in my arms…but pooooor Maud.  After a few weeks, Booboo and I were both healed and our life as a happy little family began.

As the years went by our son Booboo became the light of Maud and Hank’s eyes.  You would never have know there was a day they wanted me to give him up.  Bill eventually earned two different degrees from college.  One in Recreation – which he decided he didn’t like after all.  His career in that field was a short lived position as a “Rec Director” at a higher end resort in a neighboring town. He hated pretending to like guests; he refused to cater to their needs, and only received one tip the length of his employment there.  (Read between the lines – he was an ass)   So with Booboo and I in tow, back to college he went and acquired his degree in education.  We had made the decision as a family that I would stay home w/ Boo while Bill worked and got his degree.  This latest certification brought us back to our home town where Bill was hired as a Middle School Teacher.  He volunteered on various Middle School athletic teams, and eventually was hired as a High School Football Coach and Fast Pitch Coach.

We lived in a cute little rental when I found out I was pregnant with Sissy.  This was the baby we had wanted for a long while.  Boo had anxiously waited for a baby sibling for a few years now.  When hearing of the new baby, Hark and Maud promptly deeded us over 5 acres of land to put a house on.  The Apple industry had taken a dive.  All the apple trees were taken out and the orchard business had recently ended. 

Hark took the dying apple industry occasion to retire. Maud was forced to work as the High School Secretary at our Alma mater.   She hated it and everyone who stepped through the office door knew it too.  She was happy about her knew grandchild though, and Hark and her were present the night Sissy finally arrived that spring.  I had been in labor for 37 hours when finally Bill came out to the waiting room pushing a hospital bassinet with a pink bundle inside.  Bill cried as he presented his daughter to his family.  He said it was one of the two happiest days of his lives.  The birth of Boo and the birth of his precious baby girl, Sissy.

Though the valley had only a few fruit trees here and there, our newly received  land perched on top of a hill, held the most amazing view.   You could see up and down the valley with Oakville river winding through.  The hill above our house was covered in wild flowers during the spring.  Families of Deer wandered the trails year round.  Coyotes sang at night.  Raccoons, eagles, you name it – all sorts of different wild life lived on our hill.  I loved that hill.  I used to climb it by myself and sit for hours on a mossy rock watching the river crawl by below.   Someplace up on that hill today….is a part of my heart. 

After looking at stick houses and talking to many construction companies, we finally decided to purchase a triple-wide manufactured home to place on our land.  I couldn’t believe what an adorable house we found!!!  Soaring ceilings, tile fireplace, huge windows, not one bit of this “Trailer” looked like a manufactured home.   We hired a company to do the land prep and “install” the house.  There were many extra boulders on our land so the head worker built me a huge rock wall along our drive way.  He also found an enormous boulder on the edge of the front hill that had a deep divot in it.  He placed it back into the hill with his enormous machinery giving me a “Bird Bath Boulder”.  I was in love with my house on the hill, even though it sat amongst the dirt and my beautiful rocks. 

Landscaping was my life.  Digging in the dirt made me happier than anything.  When I wasn’t planting, digging, or hauling rocks.  I was building trellises, bird feeders, benches and more out of white birch and selling them up and down the valley.   Bill and I worked side by side in our garden as often as we could.  I spent most days dirty, dusty, and digging while he helped after work and on the weekends.  Before we knew it, a park-like landscape had emerged on our hill from all of the hard work.  

We lived in a happy little house, on a happy little hill.  We were THE happy little family.