Previous:
I'm adopted, and have been brought up in Denmark. I've discovered with a lot of help that my real mother lives in Santa Cruz, California. I phone her from Scotland where I live then 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 had arranged to visit friends in Missouri, and I had decided to go on to California from there. If my mother didn't want to have anything to do with me, I at least wished to see her in person.

While in Missouri we are hit by severe weather, having to go into the basement when a huge tornado is approaching. Miraculously, it splits in two and we are all saved.

Part Seven:

We had survived. The house was intact, the village was fine, and I was ready. Ready to go and look up my mother. However, everything seemed surreal, and yet, two days later Rhonda and Harold drove me up to St. Louis to see me off. I hugged them both in an embrace that never seemed to end. We felt too emotional to say much, thinking about what we'd been through, and not knowing when we were to see each other again.

"Harold, Rhonda, I love you both."

I wiped my tears, and picked up my luggage.

They both looked at me.

"Ulla, you'll call us when you know something. Promise? Love you!"

"I do, promise." My tears were running freely now as I walked on.

I turned around once, we waved, and I was off.

The plane touched down in LA a few hours later, where I retrieved my luggage, and proceeded straight to the car rental counter. Not long after, all the paper work was done, and I was on my way. I cruised through Santa Monica and Malibu, and soon settled in to the drive up along the coast in the direction of San Francisco.

It was well into the afternoon already, so I decided to stop for the night, looking forward to the drive up Highway One the following day. Not only for its beauty, but to help me collect my thoughts, and to prepare for what was to come. I'd decided to arrive in Santa Cruz early in the afternoon the following day, find accommodation, and then go to look up my mother.

After a few miles I came across a small hotel on the water front of a lovely little town. It was an adorable setting, and I congratulated myself on my good fortune. A little later I sat down to a light meal, looking over the ocean, and watched the sun as it cast its last rays over the darkening water. It was such a peaceful evening, and I could easily have stayed up late into the night. However, it was time to go to bed. An important day was awaiting me.

After a good night's sleep, I set off in what could only be described as a glorious morning, with a bright blue sky, not a breath of wind, and the ocean crystal clear way below me.

An hour or so passed, and I decided to stop at a cafe for a mug of coffee. While I gazed over the ocean, I admired the beautiful view, and thought about what was to happen later in the day. As I drove on I thought how I'd always loved this drive, and why it had such a soothing effect on me at this particular time.

There was a sharp bend in the road, and then, just there were the condors. Wow, what magnificent birds! They circled around just a few meters from me, way above the ocean. It had to be an omen that I was to see my mother later on in the day.

Twenty miles to Santa Cruz. And approaching.

My heart was beating, thumping away in my chest. My God! I don't know what I had expected. My hands were wet, and I could feel the cold sweat on my face. I trembled, and realised I had to stop the car until I got my act together. This just wouldn't do. Deep breath and relax... and another deep breath.
For goodness sake, I was seeing my mother, not going to my death. OK?

I drove on slowly, and gradually I began to feel a little better. What surprised me was the overwhelming feeling of dread.

"All right, you can do this!" I almost shouted to myself.

Eventually, I entered Santa Cruz and headed towards the centre. I passed a Motel that looked OK, and decided to turn in, leaving most of my luggage in a very pleasant room.
A quick call to Rhonda and Harold confirmed that they had been waiting for news, and they wished me luck. Oh, I could have done with them being there with me.

Back in the car, I suddenly remembered seeing a gasoline station close by, and thought that it would be as good a place as any to get a local map to find the street where my mother lived. I needed fuel anyway, and after filling the tank, I strolled in and asked whether they had a local map. They sure did. I paid, went back in the car and looked up the address.

God! It was only two streets down, almost at the water front,

And then it hit me, and it hit hard. I sat rooted to my seat looking out of the window, yet saw nothing. Tears filled my eyes, and then I cried.

Oh, and I cried for real. I couldn't remember that I'd cried like that for a very long time. It was worse than the night when I discovered that my mother was still alive. To this day, I'm not quite sure why I cried that much at this point in time, but I knew that if I were to have a chance of ever seeing my mother, it had to stop. And to stop right now.

I drove past her house a couple of times, still crying, but little by little, and after some deep breaths I started to compose myself.

After passing her house yet again, I noticed that a car was parked in the driveway outside the garage, which either meant she had visitors or that she had parked her car outside. Well, there was only one way to find out.

A parking space had just become available a few houses away, so I quickly pulled in, stopped the engine, and looked in the mirror to assess the repair needed to erase any trace of my crying. Another few deep breaths, a good drink from the water bottle, and I felt ready. Well, as ready as I would ever be.

I locked the car, and at a brisk walk, I reached her house, and went up to the front door with a determined look on my face.

To be continued.