Sweet Love of Christmas

Where Is Lena?

LENA POV

Being that it was now creeping closer to December 15th, I wasn't sure when I was going to fly out to Colorado. I'd need to go to a travel agent again to book my ticket or I could just drive and I wasn't exactly sure as I splash some primer on another canvas for my next painting.

The phone call I had gotten from Gary almost a week ago had really made me think hard about my life and all that had happened since leaving Oakland in 1970. It seemed ever since Will and I left that base that our life just went somewhat downhill for I had miscarried our baby and we had separated shortly after. It wasn't that we didn't love one another but it seemed we just weren't meant to be together in that way and losing a child didn't help.

It had really put a giant damper on my soul even if Will was a changed man from the war. He was sullen and struggled with depression when he came back and was all around, very hard to deal with. I had tried to be understanding, very much so, and when we moved again from Georgia back home to Maine I thought being there would help him for he worked with my father in his lobster business. However, we still fought quite a bit and it broke my heart to pieces, but like most people, I was hopeful that a baby would repair what was breaking in our marriage. But that wasn't the case by any means. In fact, it was losing that baby that dissolved what was left. Which was nothing.

By the end of 1971 Will and I had decided to just get an annulment making it as if we had never married in 1968, reverting my name from Lena Adams back to Lena Wilcott. At the time it felt strange to no longer be married or carry Will's name anymore but I also felt a sense of relief, a tremendous pressure lifted off of me, not to mention happy for the first time in years. That wasn't easy to admit, but I had been determined to make something of myself and knew I could go anywhere considering I had done it when I moved out to Oakland.

There were times I missed him of course, and even if it was one of the most painful things, I put my motivation into full gear and attended Maine College of Art where I majored in Fine Arts and Education. School had kept me very busy and when I graduated last year I applied for an internship out here in Seattle at the Henry Art Gallery and was excited to know I had gotten it. Of course it had progressed into a full time job another thing I was grateful for since I had to make a living. It had also been nice to see my art get recognized for I had been picked up for several shows for not only my paintings but my photography as well.

In the beginning I wasn't sure what it would be like out here even if I knew Seattle was rather progressive. It was infact the progressiveness of this city that drew me in and that I found heartwarming especially the hippy art scene. It was something I had craved and had not even realized it as memories of our short few months living in Georgia gives me an instant panic attack. It had been difficult much like living on the Oakland Army Base where I left behind all my amazing friends. That however had been a whole different ballgame and the south was a whole other horse of a different color. The racism on base was far worse then anything I had ever experienced in my life to the point I just stayed in the home all the time, not to mention I was sick from being pregnant, and depressed from leaving my best friends.

I was so happy when will left the Army and we moved home back to Maine and I had spoken to my mother in great lengths about how awful that Georgia base was. I knew Tess was from the deep south and I wondered how she had been able to survive. She said it was just what she was use to and had learned how to adapt to it and knew the "rules." It was hard for me to understand any of it, always had been, for people of color would just seem to always struggle to be accepted or treated equally in society.

But I am in my element now teaching several art classes throughout the year and truly making a life of my own even making a few friends.

These friends of course were nothing like the ones I had made on base back in the late 60's, for they were mainly surface friends and friends I worked with on shows and gallery openings. I had only been out here for a year and pretty much buried myself in my work living in my studio apartment and walking everywhere. It made it difficult to really meet anyone outside of my art world and even if I had gone on a date here or there nothing ever came of it and that was okay with me. I wasn't in a rush to meet anyone even if I was approaching my late 20's, it was what it was, for if I'm truly honest? I wasn't sure if I'd ever marry again. I knew that the dream of having children had died with my baby as well, and I am thankful my mother didn't harp on me to try and move on with someone.