Pevious:
I have always known that I was adopted. In early 2003 I travelled from Scotland to visit my Aunt Grethe yet again. She was like a mother to me, and insisted that I look up the data of my real mother. My aunt wanted me to find my roots.

We spent a day just doing that, but it didn't get me anywhere in my search. That same evening I met up with my daughter, ex-husband and his wife Bente. And it was from Bente I got a helping hand. Her best friend, Marianne, working in the foreign Ministry might be able to help in my search.

I was now back in Scotland. Three weeks later, a week before I was due to leave for Missouri, visiting friends, I received an email from Marianne informing me that my Mother had married a George with a Scottish/Irish surname back in 1954, and then settled in Heidelberg, Germany.

That's where the trail ended. I deduced that this George could be British or American as they had Bases there after World War2. My mind was in a turmoil. And I remembered a long forgotten conversation.

New chapter:
As I entered the front door, I went straight to the kitchen, and poured myself a large glass of white wine. I brought it through to my computer, sat down at the desk while looking over the water. I raised the glass, and took a sip.

So many years ago, and now, like a broken record, that long forgotten remark was repeating itself over and over again in my mind. My adoptive father's words kept coming back to me that my real father was a foreigner, maybe an American. My adoptive mother had hushed him to silence, not wanting me to hear it.

Dear God, was this it? My real mother had married a George. Could he possibly be an American, and could this George she'd married be my father? If all or some of it was true, then the chances were that they'd moved to The United States.

Another sip of wine, and I felt, if not better, then slightly calmer. Moreover, I knew what I had to do next. I booted up the computer, and it soon came alive. I had come across the American search site a while ago, as I'd googled something entirely different. At the time I'd thought the site could come in handy, and made a note of it. Maybe it was fate or just luck, it didn't matter, I would never know, anyway.

Finally, the page came up asking me which search I would like to do. For ten dollars I could get an address and telephone number if that was all I needed; as long as I had the full name and date of birth of the person I was looking for. I contemplated the other options that cost more money, but didn't think I would need them.

I sat back gazing at the form I had to fill in. I lifted my glass, and yet again looked over the River Clyde, marvelling at the beauty of the mountains in the distance. The Highland was greeting me in all its glory, the setting sun throwing a golden sheen. This time I took a deep gulp from my glass as if to draw courage from it.

I proceeded to fill in my mother's full name and her date of birth... and clicked.

It seemed an eternity. I held my breath willing the page to open, and then I sighed.

There, it opened and I stared in disbelief!

My mother's name, her address and a telephone number!

I must have sat for the longest time without making a move. Tears welled up, and I knew that I couldn't have uttered a word if my life depended on it.

I looked at the data again. And I was enthralled. The address was in Santa Cruz, California.

I felt that I would never be able to express what went through my mind at that moment. But, what I can say is that I made up my mind there and then. I Looked at the time. Eight o'clock in the evening here, still midday in California and too early to risk phoning. She might not be in.

Another decision I had to make right then was, who to phone first. My aunt or my daughter? They both deserved to hear from me, but then again, the choice was taken out of my hands when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ulla," the voice of aunt Grethe greeted me cheerfully. "Just wanted to know, if you'd heard from Marianne, or maybe had some other news?"

"Oh, Grethe, I do have news. You are not going to believe this. I've just found my mother a moment ago! I was going to phone you, but then it rang while I debated whether it would be you or Amelie to hear it first"

I could hear the intake of breath at the other end of the line.

I went on to explain about the email I had received from Marianne earlier in the day, and what I had finally deduced from that.

"Grethe, I know it is unbelievable. I can hardly believe it myself. And George, her husband, is registered at the same address as well, so there is no doubt that I have found her. Anyway, it can't be anybody else, not with those typical Danish first names, and the surname which is not so common either. Oh, I'm so excited!"

"Wow, that is really some news. What are you going to do now?"

"Well, I've decided that I'm going to phone my mother at six in the afternoon her time. But I'll put the phone down when and if she answers. Under no circumstances am I to talk. All I want to know is, if she's still alive, and if so, then I'll go on to California from Missouri."

"Yeah," my aunt urged.

"Say, she doesn't want to have anything to do with me, then I've at least seen her if nothing else."

Everything had gone quiet.

"Grethe, are you still there?"

"Oh, sorry Ulla, of course I am. I was just thinking about what you are saying. I can understand, if that's what you want to do. Are you up to it though? What if she rejects you point blank?"

"Oh, but Grethe, this is something I've been thinking about for a while, if I were ever to find her. I'm quite clear on what I want to do. I'll be in the States anyway, so that's decided."

"Ok Ulla, I agree with you. I only wanted to know that you're absolutely certain about it. I don't want you hurt. Good luck tonight, and phone me in the morning. I want to know the outcome of your call."

"I will, speak tomorrow."

The next call to my daughter, Amelie, went down much the same lines, and we also agreed to speak the next morning.

Afterwards, I prepared a light meal, but hardly ate anything, and I settled into a long evening, glancing at the time every so often willing it to reach two o'clock, when it would be six o'clock in the afternoon in California.

I set the alarm, snoozed for a while, and at last! Time to phone.

My hand was shaking as I dialled. And nothing... I waited... and then, it rang... and it rang.

"Hello?... Hello? Anybody there?" And the phone was slammed down.

I looked at nothing in particular, seeing nothing. All I knew was that my mother was alive. No doubt there. The voice I'd just heard was a replica of my own. Wow!

I had never been more determined in my life. Within the next few weeks I was going to see my mother. My real mother!

And then I cried. I cried for someone I'd never known, but who might now be within my reach. If somebody had asked me, I couldn't have explained why I felt that intense sense of grief. I experienced the deepest feeling of loss I'd ever known, yet at the same time, I was happier than I had been for a very long time.

I was ready to go.

To be continued.