Previous:
I'm adopted and have been brought up in Denmark. I've discovered, and with a lot of help that my real mother lives in Santa Cruz, California. I phone her from Scotland where I now live to ascertain whether she is still alive. She answers, and I put down the phone, recognising her voice which is almost identical to my own.

Prior to this I have arranged to visit friends in Missouri, and I have decided I will go on to California from there. If my mother doesn't want to have anything to do with me, I at least want to have seen her in person.

Part Six:

As we took off, I sat back in my seat and watched the landscape disappearing way below. The miniature houses looked like they were made of blocks of Lego.

I snuggled into my seat looking forward to the next few hours. It used to be me up there in the aisle serving the passengers. Now I was the passenger, and I loved the feeling of being pampered.

In seven hours or so, I would be in New York, changing to the flight for St. Louis, Missouri. Rhonda had promised to meet me and drive us the 70 miles to their home near the Mississippi River.

I looked down, and saw the contours of the countryside becoming even smaller; only to disappear all together when we headed west over the ocean.

While eating my meal, I reflected on the last few days. I had phoned Rhonda and Harold to tell them the news that I had located my real mother, and I could still hear Rhonda saying.

"Oh, but Ulla, this is such wonderful news. What are you to do next?"

"Well, Rhonda, I've decided that I will be leaving you guys a week or so earlier than we'd planned. I'm going to California to look up my mother."

"Wow," was all she'd said. "you have to tell us all about it on arrival."

"That I will. See you soon."

After the meal I reclined the seat and, before I knew it I was fast asleep. I was blessed that way. Something I'd learned to do during all my years of flying.

I woke up just before we landed in New York. The transfer went smoothly, and a few hours later I arrived in St. Louis.

And, there was Rhonda as promised.

"Ulla, it's so good to see you." Rhonda stepped back, appraising me.

"Sorry that Harold is not here, but he's held up at work. He'll be back home later tonight though. He can't wait to see you."

We didn't talk much during the drive, which I was grateful for. Rhonda understood how tired I was, and we could catch up as soon we were home.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, we met up on the porch looking over the rolling hills, a view I'd always loved.

"Rhonda, how warm it is compared to Scotland in late April. This is lovely."

"Now, Ulla, will you stop the small talk. Don't keep me in suspense any longer." Rhonda raised the glass of chilled wine she had served both of us. "Come on, start from the beginning; we do have a couple of hours before Harold is back home, but I can't wait that long. You'll just have to tell it all over again. Tired or not. So spill!"

"Oh, this is just so like you, isn't it?" I laughed. "OK, let me just have a sip of this wine, and I'll tell you all. You don't know how happy I am to be here again, Rhonda. We do go back so many years. It's almost like coming home."

Rhonda chuckled. "Yeah, thirty years at least, isn't it?"

I nodded, and I told her everything that had happened during the last month or so. Rhonda never said a word, and I could see she was enraptured. When I'd finished we sat in silence, until Rhonda turned towards me raising her glass, her eyes filled with tears.

The rest of the afternoon we sat in a companionable silence, until we heard Harold's car coming up the driveway. I looked at him as he strode towards us. He'd never changed much during all these years. He was so handsome, tall and erect, a man larger than life.

The evening soon passed, and so did the next few days turning into a week, and then into another week. I booked my flight to California, and I frequently reminded myself that I would soon see my real mother. Meanwhile, I was enjoying this quiet time with my friends getting mentally ready for what was to come.

And then all hell broke loose.

It had been an unusually hot day being the first week of May. We'd spent most of the day on the porch, Rhonda and I, not doing much. Inside, the TV was turned on, so we could follow what was going on. It was the tornado season, and there had been a few reported in the west of Missouri. Some of them rather severe. Reports were coming in all the time, but so far nothing really too bad. That was in the late morning.

As the day progressed, a serious alert was on in many places, but as yet not where we were. Late in the afternoon, we still had visitors wanting to say hello to me, which was so sweet, but they soon left to go home. Just in case. Harold had come back early that day as well, not wanting to be up in St. Louis when the alerts were on.

This is where I should mention, what a lot of you will know, but which some of you may not. Most homes in 'tornado areas' in the US have a cellar fully equipped with refrigerators filled with food and water, bunks and first aid kits. A generator for light and so on. The same was the case in Harold's and Rhonda's home.

We still sat on the porch, and dusk was approaching fast. And so was the weather. The sky was very black with a greenish hue, and the wind had kicked up quite badly. Harold carried a walkie- talkie, in direct contact with a close friend, who was on the tornado alert team in the village.

I was fascinated to say the least. I had often been here during the tornado season, but this was the first time we appeared to be in danger.

The walkie- talkie crackled and then: "GET IN THE BASEMENT, NOW!"

And somewhat calmer: "The sirens are going on in seconds!"

We scrambled to our feet and made our way to the kitchen. The noise was an inferno of sirens that reminded me of the bomb alerts I had heard in old news programs from The Second World War.

The howling wind shook the house to its core.

Down the steps we went, and sat down at whatever was available. The screaming wind was incredible, even down there. We just sat and looked at each other.

And then nothing. Not a sound. Everything had gone eerily quiet.

I must have looked confused.

Rhonda explained that it meant the tornado was just about to strike."In a few seconds you will feel as if an enormous hoover is close by".

And that's exactly what happened - and then nothing ... Absolutely nothing! Harold, Rhonda and I looked at each other, and I asked what must have sounded like a five year old: "What happens now?"

I almost laughed, because their looks were as bewildered as I felt. They were supposed to be the experts for Christ's sake!

And then, we laughed, and for real this time. The Sirens sounded that the danger was over.

Once upstairs, I again asked what had happened, and they both admitted that they didn't have a clue. The tornado had been right there, right next to us, that was all they could say.

We all slept on the ground floor that night, equipped with some very powerfull torches, and I don't think any of us slept much.

I had never experienced a thunderstorm that severe in my life. The booms made the house shudder, moving even. It was like an earthquake, something that I had experienced. But this was not one, and it was frightening.

Several times during that night, I wondered whether I would ever make it to California to see my mother.

At last, dawn broke, and it became so much calmer, and from the early news we learned that it had been a category three.

However, it was from the neighbour across the road that we learned the most amazing thing.

He'd gone up to the attic of his house when the tornado approached, which was against all common sense. He would have been killed instantly if it had struck.

"I know, very stupid, but I just couldn't resist the urge to watch." He smiled.

"It was amazing! This huge thing approached, and, Man, it just split in two right in front of our houses, passing the village, then become one again disappearing towards the river."

Our number had clearly not been up!

That day, we heard about the destruction the numerous tornadoes had caused all over the State, It was a very sad moment when we learned that more than fifty people had died, not to mention the damages and homes lost. Not a good day at all.

I was so relieved that both Harold and Rhonda, all their family and friends had escaped unscathed, and on a selfish note that, I was able to continue on my journey to see my real mother.

The time had arrived for my departure.

To be continued.