I have always been prone to daydreaming, possibly moreso than other than other people because I think visually anyway. But that fall, as my birthday came and went uneventfully, with no word of Daniel, perhaps escaping in my thoughts was what kept me going, kept me hoping through the daily hassles, through Dad's increasingly frequent groping, Mom's mood swings and her insistence that we follow prayer formulas that were getting more complicated and convoluted all the time.

I took myself away to Daniel's little cabin, to the things we would plant, to his smile, to the things I would cook, to the babies we would have. Mom and Sarah had already asked Yahweh how many children I would have and what their names would be. I thought about how I would rub Daniel's back, not Dad's, how I'd take such good care of him, how I'd spin the wool from his sheep and knit sweaters and slippers and socks for my family, how I would mend his tattered clothing. I did a lot of research on how I could help him provide for our needs without having to buy things with money. For example, we could grow watermelons, juice them, and the juice could be cooked down into a syrup to sweeten foods with. Or, since he had a lot of birch trees on his place, we could tap them and boil down the sap like maple syrup. The sap to syrup ratio is much less favorable for birch than for the sugar maple, but since birch was what was there, it would have to do. I paid a lot of attention to articles in The Mother Earth News that dealt with this sort of thing, or how to make children's clothing by cutting down adult clothes and using your own home made patterns. I tried to picture what our children might look like. Of course, they would be born at home, and I would breastfeed them all. I also spent a lot of time thinking about the fact that Daniel was 18 years older than me, and how I should be prepared to take care of him when he got old. The thought didn't bother me. I was looking forward to serving him.

I never thought about going to college, having a career, or even getting a job. I had found my true and only calling in life: being a farm wife to Daniel P. Haugen.