Homeless

We are officially homeless.

Sure, we may have a large chunk of change in the bank from the equity of our home, but there is something priceless about having a place to call your own.

For our last night at the Shawnee House, we did last minute fixes and clean-ups, said good-bye to our favorite neighbors, took final pictures and videos, had one last freeze dance party, and ate a picnic dinner on the floor of our empty kitchen. It felt perfect. Just like I dreamed it should be. Lois smeared one last goopy hand on the fridge, Waldo bonked his head on the bathroom doorknob, Dolly dropped half her yogurt on herself, the kids argued, wrestled, giggled, and screamed, and Bobby and I embraced for the final time in our precious first home. Tears were spilled. Smiles were had. Hugs were given. Treasures left behind. Even though the homeowner won’t appreciate it, we left a box of “treasures found in the backyard by little explorers,” and a vase of dried out flowers that a dear friend gave us the very first day the Shawnee House was ours. Passing the sentiments along with the house felt more appropriate than trying to grasp on longer.

It strikes me how some of the most ordinary things triggered emotional responses from me. While playing chase with all three kiddos in the vacant basement, I became all weepy looking at the floor boards. Floor boards? Really, Sarah? Or a closet, or our entryway, or our storage room? Realizing my eyes would most likely never see the sight again, evoked an attempt to burn as many memories, from floor to ceiling, into my long-term memory. Dolly even made one last art piece in our garage with a stray broken piece of chalk. Our mark has been made, but left to soon become dust. Literally. I bet Dave (the homeowner) is going to sweep that away for the earthworms to eat for breakfast.

Bobby was surprisingly more emotional than me. If you have a chance, you should check out the album he wrote last week in our boxed up house. It’s beautiful. It should most definitely make you cry.

It is hard to communicate when your emotions are moved to tears. Words cannot come out. You can’t plow through life, grit your teeth, or push it back. When you cry, it’s like your entire body shuts down in order to produce the force of tears. It feels terribly good to cry, but awfully painful.

I still haven’t figured out why it was/is so hard to leave our Shawnee House. Logic would tell me we’ve only been there for five years, so quit being a baby. But I don’t think logic has to win our emotions. Sometimes, you need to cry because that’s the emotion that comes over you, and it’s okay. Not all things should be logic-ed away.

But right now, in my homeless state, I am doing okay. Coming back to the Kunkle Abode (my in-laws), after our final Shawnee hurrah, actually felt like home. I didn’t feel like a wanderer entering into a foreign place, but instead, felt comfort sweep over me as the garage door dinged open and the smell of afternoon coffee filled my senses. The kids are finally sleeping. I am feeling quite spoiled by the multiple adult hands who help with meals, errands, and kid-loving. Bobby and I are getting in the rhythm of how and when to connect and communicate. I am finding things in the house, and my belongings are slowly but surely finding a place. Our transition period is fading, and what feels like some sense of “normal” is in view. Really, honestly, I couldn’t ask for anything more, being right here, where I am.

It’s really weird not having a geographic location to claim ownership over. But, at the same time, it’s also very freeing! No more scrambling back and forth to clean or work, no more packing, no more temptations to deep clean, spring plant, or re-organize a cluttered closet. I’m just free to… I don’t even know! What do free people do? I suppose my go-to option is to spend it with people. I feel a sense of freedom to just be with the people I love dearly. I have three months to store up all the greatest hangs with all my most loved friends and family! Mmm. Yes. Now that we dropped the house, I see more clearly the joy and opportunity we have to simply BE with people. I also can read. Journal. Do school with the kids. Go on field trips. Nebraska is all before me, and we have a good solid three months to do all things. Maybe I should think of my next three months as making and accomplishing a Nebraska bucket list of sorts. Now that the house (and every responsibility that comes with it) is over and out, I have so many possibilities of adventure!

Whoah. Being homeless doesn’t seem so bad after all.