6

March 30, 1905

Dearest Mam,

You’re surely wondering about the return address on the envelope that brought this letter to you. I have married a man who lives in San Francisco. His name is Martin Hocking and he’s the one pictured with me in the enclosed photograph. Martin is a widower with a little girl named Katharine. She’s five years old and we call her Kat. I hope to send a photograph of her to you sometime soon.

It truly doesn’t matter how I met Martin; I will just say that our paths crossed at the right time for both of us. I know you thought I could begin a new life for myself in New York, and I appreciate so very much everything you did to get me to America, but I couldn’t stay in Manhattan any longer, for many reasons. It was no place where you’d want me to be, Mam, and all that you truly wanted for me, I now have. Martin makes a good living, he has a beautiful house here in the city, and I lack nothing. I even have my own bedroom, which is what I wanted, and he did not object. I think he still grieves his first wife’s passing. He doesn’t talk much about her, and I’m glad he doesn’t. He travels most days for his job; he works for an insurance company.

I wouldn’t say that Martin and I are good friends yet, but I think we could be someday. What Martin and I do have in common, aside from old wounds, is our wanting to provide a good home for sweet Kat. She has taken the death of her mother so very hard. The wee thing doesn’t speak more than a word or two. I can see the pain of her loss in the way she looks at me, at everything. It is my hope that in time, the ache of her grief will lessen and she will want to again hear her own voice.

Kat and I find things to do while Martin’s away and when it’s not cold and rainy. There are many parks here, and a library and shops. The ocean is nearby and I can always get fresh fish. Occasionally the earth trembles here in San Francisco. There was a shuddering just a few days ago that lasted only seconds, and yet alarmed me greatly. But Martin assured me it is the nature of the earth to correct itself from time to time. This is how it does it. I will get used to the quaking, he said. Everyone who lives in San Francisco does. I’m sure he is right.

There is a lady who lives across the street with a baby. I have seen her coming in and out of her house and I hope to meet her soon. The other people who live on our street are older and are cordial enough when we pass one another on walks. They seem a bit wary of me and I mentioned this to Martin. He said people here are wary of all immigrants. We live not too far from Chinatown, which I don’t visit, but when we are downtown I see the way some people glower at the Chinese men with their long braids trailing down their backs.

I think I can be happy here in San Francisco and I don’t want you to worry. Martin is a rather private person but it’s possible that in time affection may grow between us, and as you know, I am in no hurry. If you hear from Mason, please tell him I do not hold it against him that he left me in New York like he did. It was hard after he left, but I’m happy now being Kat’s mother, especially since she will likely be the only child I will ever be a mother to.

Give my love to the brothers and their wives and all the wee ones. I miss you and think of you often and I’m so very glad you let me take Da’s old word book with me. I know how much you loved it. Every morning I peek inside and choose a word for the day. Today I chose the word renaissance. It means to be reborn. That’s how I feel, Mam. I finally feel like I’ve been given a chance to start over.

I’ve often wished I could turn back time and do things differently, but maybe it’s better to start anew than to go back in time and hope you have the courage and wisdom to make different choices.

Please be happy for me, Mam . . .