I can still feel the fear, the loneliness and the uncertainty whenever I think back to those years. I have made choices throughout my adult life that (I thought) were inspired by my never wanting to experience that degree of uncertainty ever again. Those years are why I delayed having children. Those years are why I stayed married long after the love was gone. Those years are why I chose a career that was solid and stable - - albeit plodding and dull.
Last week I was going thru some things of Mom's and found a stack of letters I wrote to Martha after I first returned to the U.S. Why Mom had them and not Martha, I don't know.
Like I said, my memory tells me that this was a forlorn and bleak period. But these letters make my life sound almost gleeful. I've attached the first letter I wrote during that time. In it I write about being lonely, having to sleep outside in the cold, not having money for rent, etc. but it is served up in a basket-full of exclamation marks and teenage humor. Like, I was living an adventure. Like, it was all no big deal.
Which is true? Have I conjured up that time to be worse that it really was? Or, did my youth and hormone-infused bravado keep me blissfully unaware of our dire reality? Which was it... a scary chapter in my life? Or an exciting adventure?
