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Chapter 8 New Beginings

New grandma's and grandpa's, new aunties and uncles came to our little house. They took pictures, brought toys, gave kisses and hugs, and said things like "isn't he so cute" or "look at those little fingers and toes." Little Bret would just lay there in Grandma's lap asleep, a little smile playing on his lips once in a while. His little eye lids would quiver and he would let out a quiet hiccup.

Daddy would stay in a little longer than usual after lunch and his chores would get done a little earlier in the evenings. Grandma would bring over homemade soups or cookies or donuts, and ask "how is our little one today?"

Yes, life changed forever and that first year with little Bret passed by with a lot of "firsts." The "first" night he slept all the way through, his "first" little smile, his "first" little coo, the first "surprise shower" given to mommy and daddy when they changed his diaper. When he first crawled across the living room floor, or pulled himself slowly up on the couch and turned and smiled at us. His first wobbly steps when he left my arms and walked to Daddy's. The first time daddy said "I'm taking Bret with me this morning." I looked out the window and there he was, sitting so big there on Daddy's lap in the tractor cab. They were doing the chores.

So all these "firsts" led us to Bret's first birthday cake with one single candle burning bright. He was sharing his day with his little friend. His cousin, Adam, was eight months older than him, but they were best friends. Often Bret and I would hop in the car and travel the three miles to Adam's house. Those boys would play and giggle and run all over the house, while his mom and I would share "mother tips." What one little boy wouldn't think of the other one would.

Lots of times I would look out the living room window and there would go Daddy and Bret, Mark carrying a five gallon bucket full of  pig food in one hand and in the other was the small hand of his son. They would walk down past the machine shed past the corral and out to the pig pen. Bret was helping do the pig chores.

"Small used 10 x 50 trailer home for sale. White in color with a wide blue stripe around the top. All appliances goes with it including a stacked washer and dryer. Must be moved. Call 264-8439 for more information."

Yes, we were going to sell our little trailer. Mark and I had talked in depth about it and decided it was time to really put down roots here on our little rented farm. We had no guest bedroom and with Bret growing like a weed the living area was getting smaller everyday. The best reason of all was we both loved our neighbors and we wanted to raise our family right here.

Do you remember that alfalfa field down the road west of Grandpa's, past Amos and Ruth's little farm house, and across the bridge? That little alfalfa field along the creek? Well, that became home to us. We bought that five acre field and that is where we are still today, some 40 years later.

I remember the day Mark, Bret and I sat in the loan office and took out our largest loan ever. We were excited and happy....getting a house of our own, but we were also very nervous. Could we really do this? How many years would it take to pay it off? Could our small operation stand up to it?

"I see you live in a flood zone and along a creek," the loan officer said to us, his face stern.

"We do have a small creek to the west, north and east of us but it is usually dry. I don't know about the flood zone," Mark answered back.

"Well,  it shows that it is, here on this map. I will loan you folks the money but I insist you have flood insurance."

"Well, I guess that's all we can do then," Mark said "Thanks for trusting us. We will do our best to pay this back."

"We set up your loans so you can pay back as much as you want on the principal after you pay the interest."

"Sounds good," Mark said as he quietly got up to leave. "Once again, thank you."

So by November 1977 a basement was being dug a few yards from the road. Our house was ordered and was being made at the manufacturer. It was exciting to drive down to the site and just sit there on the mounds of dirt and watch Bret try to climb up as far as he could get. Sometimes we would just slowly walk around the creek, dreaming of how it would all look someday. We never dreamed that it would look like it does now. Back then, we were just thankful for our own plain little house.

One late morning in December our phone rang. Mark answered. All I heard was his side of the conversation. "Yes it is...no it's not....yes a stacked washer and dryer....I'm sure you could....he gave directions to our house.....6:00 Sunday evening then? That sounds great."

As I stood there holding Bret, I just knew someone was coming to see the trailer. "So someone is interested right?" I asked turning to Mark.

"Yes, a young woman and her mother. It seem the mother is in need of a home. Aren't you happy?"

"Oh I guess. I don't know. Sometimes my feelings get all mixed up!"

That Sunday evening there was a knock on our door at exactly 6:00. When Mark answered it, there stood a young lady and an older woman with smiles all over their faces.

"Oh, we love it already! It's just what we are looking for isn't it mother?" the young woman said turning to her mother.

"Well, come on in and have a tour," Mark said opening the door wider.

As he and Bret showed them from one end to the other, I just stood there like a robot in the middle of the living room. My mind was going back to that first evening my husband carried me into this little white trailer with its bright blue stripe. Back to the time we moved it 300 miles and put it here among the hedge row. Back to the time Mark gently helped me out that door, into the car and drove me to the hospital through the snow. Back to the day we brought our precious little boy in through that door and placed him in his crib. I remembered all the many steps I made from the kitchen to the bedroom and back, to the sound of the sweeper, as Bret fussed and cried because of tummy aches. I saw in my mind's eye Mark sitting at one end of the couch and me at the other. We were so excited when Bret would wobble between us, arms held out.

"I'm sure we want it," came a voice from no where bringing me back to reality. "When can we plan on having it moved?"

"I understand our new home is to be moved in around the first of January. Would that be okay with you ladies?" I just stood there holding Bret close. I knew I should be overjoyed, but I wasn't. I will though...I just had to get over it.

The next couple months seemed to fly by with all that we had to do in getting our new home built. There was things to pack into boxes, questions to answer from the manufacture, and the final "clean up" of the little trailer. Once or twice we would go in and see how our house was coming along. That was always so exciting. I had slowly gotten used to the fact that change is often a good thing even though it means only having memories of things that were once dear to me. Because "home" is really where my loved ones are.


Many years after we moved in to our new home down the road, I was given a diary entry that Grandma wrote that really summed up how we all felt.  

"The big full yellow moon rose over our quiet little farmstead. Setting in our driveway, its wheels in place, is that little white trailer home, ready to be moved to its new home. Down the road a mile, the little family who won my heart is looking at the same full moon from their new home beside the creek." 

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