We have made it to our new home in Iowa, and I really love it! I am not happy, because the truck with all our belongings is “weather delayed.” Or at least that is what it said yesterday. Today it says to call them. Praying for the best, and for the truck to get here soon. Highway 80 in Colorado has been closed in stretches since before we came through. We have had to go out and get a lot of temporary comfort things, like air beds and kitchenware, and a few chairs.
I really love our new house! It is ninety years old, although it has some newer additions. So it has some character. It is bigger than our old house. And the view outside the back windows and from the deck is just gorgeous. Right now it’s a bowl of snow, with lots of winter trees, and the bowl is circled by some nice houses with decks facing into it. It makes me feel like I am in a winter vacation villa.
One thing I can’t help coming back to in our back yard view, however, is that there is a large water tower in the bowl to the right, which you can see through the trees in the photo above. I know this is crazy, but there was one feature that seemed to run through the messages I received from the psychics who have contacted me over the years about Michaela, and that is a water tower. They saw her near a water tower. Of course, I thought that meant she had been taken to a place near a water tower, or buried in a place near a water tower, but now I can’t help but think, maybe it was this water tower they saw. Maybe they saw her near a water tower, but they were seeing where she would come home to. Because, well, because that is just how I think. In the few cases of missing children (or other crimes) where psychics have contributed accurate information, it has been pictures that were correct, rather than their interpretations of the pictures. For example, one little girl from Sacramento was missing, and a psychic said that she thought she was dead, because she saw her underground, wrapped in a blue blanket. When she was found, she was underground and she was wrapped in a blue blanket, but she was not dead. She was very much alive, in a church basement.
I’m not making anything of this. I’m not thinking that this is true, that it means Michaela is coming home. I just never think those thoughts anymore. After 31 years, I am not expecting Michaela to come home. But my eyes are drawn to the water tower nonetheless, and it keeps Michaela uppermost in my mind as surely as the familiar streets of Hayward did. Because, you know, wherever you go, there you are.