Another letter for Mom

This may be the only kind of post you guys get for a while (although, I promise, I have indeed handwritten the first installment of a promised serial-story for Morrow). It is sort of generally written to everyone, but with my mother's concerns in particular in mind.

I am in a wonderful home, consisting of father, mother, and zwinnern (twins). My German is coming along beautifully because, blessed day, my hostess hated her English teacher in school and is perfectly happy to let me limp along in German all the time. I apologized a few times for how badly I speak, but she finally explained to me that she can understand me better than the girls (who will be three in April), so I shouldn't worry.

I get along with the twins beautifully, even though their everyday vocabularies are bigger than mine. I find that even a few words work great, and there are more universals to two-and-a-half-year-old human behavior than I had before considered (playing peek-a-boo, distractability, having lots of personality, and love of finger-counting in any language, among other things). Also, on a side note, I am no longer afraid of having twins. Carrying them still worries me, but the raising itself is just raising two human beings who happen to be the same age. (Both of my mother's grandmothers were twins, and she always wished to have some, but didn't, and now she wishes them on her daughters. There is, evidently, some sort of hereditary connection with fraternal twins, so it would not be so unlikely for her prayer to be answered).

We went up the local mountain today and I took some shots of the surrounding countryside, which was gloriously rosy in the light of the setting sun. It was VERY cold-- OK, for me it was. The car thermometer said that it was 26 Farenheit, or -1 Celsius (I think. Something close to that). Since the only coat I brought was my lightweight-but-dark-colored-and-therefore-I-thought-more-versatile-coat, I borrowed both a coat and a jacket from the family I am staying with.

Let's see. Mom was still concerned about my food situation. She need not be. No one has given me the "there is no padlock on the refrigerator, so if you go hungry it's your fault" speech (like Dad used to give), but I feel well-welcomed nonetheless. When I mentioned, on my second day here, that I kind of wanted a walk, the mother in the family took me with her to drop the car off at the mechanic's, and then we walked to the grocery store, where she said, "whatever you want, just point, and I'll get it for you" (she said this in German, of course). I had been craving salad. So she bought a head of lettuce and some tomatoes.

Not much more time. Um. I'm living a fairly ordinary life, just in German. And in Germany. And I have a new friend. Friends. I was feeling last night a very odd feeling. I was realizing that my situation-- opportunities, desires, interests-- is very unique. I felt almost as though Heavenly Father had been preparing me to meet and love this family from the time I was ten years old. Odd. Perhaps true. In one sense, indubitably true, but I'm not sure what-- I don't know how to say this.

Oh, and on the clothes front: if anyone tells you that it isn't possible to pack too light, THEY ARE WRONG. I'm just saying. I brought three outfits. This was simply too few. Aunt Joyce, I did not end up hemming that skirt, nor did I bring it with me, and I curse the day. I have two of my mother's t-shirts that she sent with me, almost against my will, which I have worn almost every day.

And on the other hand, of the things I could have learned by experience that it's not a good idea to do (kill people, break the law of chastity, lick stationary pieces of metal which are outdoors when the temperature is below zero, pack too light) this one isn't so bad.

Love,

Cornelia