Truthfully, I had forgotten all about what I'd started a few weeks ago. Life had intervened and I'd moved on. It just seemed a foregone conclusion that I would be ignored in my request, and that,as they say, would be that. I hate it when I'm that wrong.
Yesterday I mentioned the need for adrenaline to get me going. Well, my adrenals got good and squeezed, but not until after the workday had ended.
I had several errands to run after work, but I'd neglected to bring my wallet so I had to go home first. The mailboxes at my apartment complex are not exactly user friendly. They're outside under this hut like thing and they're about a block from my apartment. So the first stop at the end of the day is always the mailbox.
There wasn't much, a piece of mail that didn't look like my name, it's difficult to tell,, because somehow I ALWAYS get to the mailbox without my glasses and I just grab what there is and go. But the other was a plain envelope, with the address typed on the front, that much I could tell.
When I got back to the car and some more light, I saw that it was indeed addressed to me, but there was no return address...it was thick. Momentary intrigue and then the light bulb went on over my head. Mommie Dearest!
Yes, folks, she caved. I can't remember the entire text of the letter I sent, but the first sentence was something like " It's time to get serious." and one of the last sentences was "...you'll never hear from me again."
These must have been important to her since she highlighted them. What she wants is for me to stop sending her letters. She's been lucky so far. She got a phone call and denied to the woman who called that she is who she is, then she got a letter and blew it off. This year she got another letter and I'm sure she realized that this won't stop until she does something to make it stop. And her luck won't hold out forever. What if her husband got the mail one day and opened a letter with as many details of her life as the one I just sent? She can't really go public with the story since she's never told her husband and son, so she had to give in to my request. So, I will, I'll leave her alone. She did what she did for her own reasons back in the day, and there is no reason it should keep coming back to haunt her. Besides, I've had quite enough "family" for one lifetime thank you anyway. So Jo Ann Taylor-Lasher, you're off the hook. Thanks for the info. Later.
I'd included a self-addressed stamped postcard and asked her to write Daddy's name on it and send it back. She'd started to write on it, and then I assume decided that was too personal. so she whited out the H U she'd started to write and then inserted it in her typewriter and wrote the very personal and heartfelt message-
William Hudson.
That's it! That's the sum of my contact with my biological mother in this life. Ain't she a sweetheart? Well, I got what I was after, that's enough. I think.
So now the hunt is on for Daddy. I assume it's William Douglas Hudson, since I know Doug was what he was called. My cousin told me that much many years ago, and it was confirmed last year when I got the adoption decree and found that I was given his first name at birth, or at least his nickname. So I have to assume Doug was his middle name. It'd be interesting to find him, and see what he has to say on the subject, if anything.
(deep breath)
Here we go.
