I'm Adopted!

Starting Life anew after surviving and escaping DA (domestic abuse) is akin to being put into an entirely new world. All of your freedoms are restored. You're like a child every day because you're rediscovering so much of Life that seemed gone forever. Little things have great significance and bring tremendous joy.

During the last dark days, my company, my companions, my confidants and friends were Camelot, my 13-year-old Flame Point Siamese cat, and Cocoa, my eight-month-old tabby. It was simply unthinkable to leave them behind while I escaped to safety. So the first step in developing an escape plan was where to send my "babies" until I could rejoin them. Once they were place, I could then focus on where and how to secure my freedom and safety.

Unfortunately, Camelot and Cocoa were adopted away from me but I did not discover the adoption until that September. I was a human orphan in need of animal parents. But on moving into my new life in my junior one-bedroom Hollywood apartment, Life began to change. Then came the day in April 2000 when I proudly made an announcement to both of my writers' groups and friends.

Please note, all, that I have officially been adopted.

Last Saturday two local peewee birds [don't know the name of them but they're about 3 inches long -- fraction of an inch larger than a hummingbird but not starling]. They checked out my bedroom window. One fluttered up to the top edge of the bottom panel of the window and tried to perch there. Not a lot of success. Then he and his companion (with that dark coat, she looked like a female) both flitted about on the branches of the oak tree checking out me and the environment.

They bobbed their little heads from side to side and flitted from one branch to another and back again some more.

This routine continued all week. Each day they became a little bolder and a little more curious. They remained on the twig closest to the window even when I approached the window. They did not fly away when I tapped on the window. In fact, my tapping seemed to attract them to come "look" at me.

And now, this morning, the two of them fluttered up to the window at 6 a.m. and twittered a wakeup call to me.

I talk to them. And they just bob their little tiny heads and look at me and then wait for whatever I'm going to do next.

I keep telling them that Cocoa isn't here; that she lives somewhere else and they can't taunt her the way their cousins did when we were in Downey. They just twitter and flitter. I point to her KT replica, along with the replicas of Camelot and Charley, and then tell my new friends that these replicas also cannot be taunted. Again, my new friends merely twitter, flitter, bob and look.

It's the little things in Life (in several senses of the word) that make it good.

I'm glad of my new little friends. Should I name them? I think they already have their own names but they're unpronounceable in Human. Nevertheless, they're here, they've adopted me. They don't try to ascertain my name in either Human nor bird. They're just here, twittering and flittering, bobbing and looking, and greeting. Just imagine if they were able to get in!

That was eight years ago. Today, however, I've been re-adopted into the Human race by infants of approximately seven months. Little clear, bright eyes delight in finding me. Tiny hands reach out to grasp my hand and instead miniscule fingers latch onto two fingers of mine. Smiles from new lips wanting to exchange all the knowledge of The World warm my heart and bring me back to the days when Life was mine, like a ball to play with and enjoy. A distraction eases the vice grip and our separation is easy, gentle. Old soul mates part to rejoin another day, when Life is a little older and there are more tales to share.

There's been nine years of survival from DA. Although those first three years seemed as though there was a new start and promised expanding opportunities given the correct effort and education, the rewards did not seem to be getting delivered to the right address. Just when more disappointment was delivered in double doses and the fatigue from the unendurable survived, my Father said, "No more." The darkness began to melt away, the sour experiences dripped a slow but steady retreat. What was left was the residue of these babies who claimed and adopted me. Bright, strong, beautiful, wise baby girls of every race, too mature in their actions and abilities for infants so young. They must have secrets that they need to share with their big sister, the one who delights in their sharings.

For this moment, this is our First Day and we've, once again, been adopted!