homeless.

homes are interesting.  in america we put so much emphasis, even turning into a job title "homemaker."  and it's not a bad thing.  for me it immediately draws the opposite correlation of people in other countries whose homes are huts and what it means to them.  but that is neither here nor there and not what i was intending for tonight.


tomorrow marks five weeks since we started packing our stuff up and almost three weeks that we've been down here without the majority of our belongings.  tomorrow i will unpack.  my coffee mugs, my coffee maker, my blankets and pillows and throws.  my kids toys and stuffs, our pots and pans.  for me, being without the majority of my stuff in combination with also not having a home has been... more trying than i expected.  this is the first time in my life i have experienced homelessness.*

my house in ohio is packed up and ready to sell.  the rooms are empty, i imagine them forlorn, i'm not sure if that's the case.  i hope whoever buys it sees more happiness than we did.  the door gets literally and figuratively closed on the future i used to have.

when i visited NC before we actually went longer without having the majority of our possessions - but we knew where they were, at home, the safety blanket (or suffocating) waiting for us.  this attachment that we have to our possessions, to our things is so bizarre to me.  we don't take any of it with us.  that's part of the reason it was so difficult for me to look around and deal with all of jim's things, it just was this constant reminder of what we leave with.  why do we attach ourselves to things?

i heard this quote when i was in my early twenties and it has forever guided the way i strive to live my life

things are for use, people are to love 

i fail at that so often.  we treat our houses, our cars, our sofas on pedestals.  we freak out of it the kids scratch the floor or spill juice on the rug, remember the days of putting PLASTIC over the furniture folks?  when i experienced all of this it forever changed my perspective on things, ask me to name one thing i wouldn't give up without a second of hesitation to see my daughter's face one more time.  somehow when you've had a child die the thought of a kid scratching your car doesn't send you into hysterics.

yet still i find myself, wishing for my favorite coffee mug.  feeling very unmoored by the lack of my belongings.  my kids feel it too, tonight was pretty much our breaking point as a family.  and so #allthehardthings so that #allthegoodthings can come.





*please understand that i am in now way suggesting that my plight is the same of the souls that live every day on the streets, we have always had a house and a bed, i am merely speaking to the same connectedness i feel in my hearts to those that lose their homes, their refuges, their places of safety