A Dream Come True

I've been dreaming of going to Holland ever since I was seven years old and my mom went on a vacation to Holland, Michigan. She  brought back Dutch Cocoa in a tin with Dutch Girl on the front and  a Dutch dress, apron and hat for me to wear as a Halloween costume. Singing "I'm a little Dutch girl dressed in blue" I clomped around the hardwood floor of the auditorium wearing the costume and  my older sister's authentic wooden shoes from the country Holland. I was elated when the judges presented me with a blue ribbon for first prize in my age group.  

Over the years I've read about Holland, collected the infamous Delft porcelain, indulged in pickled herring from the time I was a child, savored black salty licorice and envied everyone that has been to Holland. I belong to a Holland Facebook page and enjoy sharing posts of the scenic country.  

When I tell people about my dream of going to Holland they generally ask
"Why Holland?"  

 "My father and his family immigrated to America from Holland in 1920 when he was nine years old. I've always longed to see my homeland." I reply.

I only knew my father, my Dutch Oma and my Aunt Gerty who smelled of camphor for the first three years of my life. Their presence  left a deep impression on me.  My father passed away in November 1960. In April 1961  my mother, six siblings and myself boarded a train to an orphanage at Mooseheart, Illinios. I only saw my Oma and Aunt Gerty once or twice after that. Although my mother wasn't Dutch she kept our Dutch Heritage alive not only by bringing us souvenirs from Holland, Michigan but by keeping my older brother and sister's wooden shoes and much to the dismay of the matrons, serving us pickled herring and Mogan David wine when we visited her on Sundays. 

The only thing that has kept me from going to Holland is the cost. Three years ago I knew my dream would come true when I was caring for an elderly man and his wife. The husband was of Norwegian descent and each year they traveled to Europe.  When I told the wife that my father was an immigrant of Holland she gave me 2 euros from the Netherlands as a keepsake.  I brought the coin home and tucked it away in a little blue pouch that I keep treasured items in and began praying each day that my dream would be realized.

Last year Cliff and I finally had enough money in the bank to make the trip. At times I can talk myself out of things hundred times before they happen.
Over breakfast one morning I attempted to talk myself and him out of taking the journey. 
 "What if we need the money for a new vehicle?"  I asked Cliff.
"That will take care of itself when the time comes." he answered.
Coming up with another roadblock, I told him maybe it was just too long of a flight.  "Remember how long the flight was to Vietnam?  I don't think I can sit still for that long."
After checking the flight length I learned it was only six hours. Surely we can do that I thought.

Throughout the month of December Cliff brought me home trinkets from Holland he found at antique stores. It seemed like the twelve days of Christmas with him giving me a copper tea kettle with a delft handle, two delft teacups and a delft salt and pepper shaker.  At a dinner in December I won a gift basket of smoked Gouda cheese and a bottle of chocolate red wine made in Holland. For Christmas he gave me a beautiful pendant with a ceramic windmill he hand cut from a tile he discovered at an antique shop, along with earrings to match.

As I opened the gift box he said "Jeanette, going to Holland is something that would make me feel like I made your dream come true." I knew then and there that we would definitely be traveling to Holland in 2014.