to be honest I feel ridiculous just now. Despite being reasonably intelligent and hard working I find myself on the brink of homelessness and poverty, all within a month.
It started in June when our private landlord, previously a good egg, informs me that he is splitting up from his wife. I nodded sympathetically, until the penny dropped. There would be implications for our house. Basically he wants it back.
Now I know that bricks and mortar alone do not make a home. I have moved enough times to understand that happiness is portable. But, this time, this hurts. It hurts because this house is in exactly the right location, here my darling granddaughter can walk up the road holding Mummy or Daddy’s hand to visit, it is a delight to watch her approach from our kitchen window, I have had visions of one day, her coming under her own steam, calling in on the way home from school, to chat the day away. I could see a future here. Now that is not to be.
It hurts because initially we never intended to stay, our thinking was to rent until we find somewhere to buy was the way. It was at least until our landlord, yes the same one who wants his house back, told us he wanted long term tenants, people to stay for many years. We laughed, how we laughed, as I said this felt like it could be our forever home. He was happy to have good tenants. We improved the house, as we always do, we made it our home. We have decorated and in the three plus years this has been home we have made it better in every way. There are tins of unopened paint waiting for the kitchen walls, that was to be my next job.
So, more fool us. We gave up the idea of buying and bought a caravan in Wales near the sea, mostly because I felt vulnerable, that we needed somewhere that was ours, and all was well. We have settled in this, our rented, forever home. We love our neighbours, the view of the hills from the bedroom window, the big skies over the field in front. We love having our friends and neighbours who have become friends close by. My daughter is content, this is the base she needs to return to while she makes new plans. One of my sons has been sleeping here at times, things are tricky for him, it is good he can come to us when he needs to. Except now he can’t anymore.
Nothing lasts forever. I am old enough to understand this, but this time I am tired. Too tired to pack up all our possessions and move. Too tired to think about where we shall live, what is available, where can we go. It makes sense to move to our caravan. It feels good to know there is somewhere safe for us. Somewhere no one can take from us on a whim. The fact we will be 60 miles from friends, family and work is a worry, but we are practical people. We can do this. We shall relocate until we find somewhere secure in our home town.
We are lucky in that we have skills. My job is part time and I can commute, we have great friends offering me keys to their home as a bolt hole once a week, this will work. Hubby can work anywhere and within weeks has secured a new job close to our caravan. Amazingly the pay is better, the conditions are better, he is excited and so am I. Ok, this is not of our choosing, and I am still tearful to be leaving, but we shall make the best of this.
So, one job is gone, hubby is on route to his new job, all is well. Then fate gets us again. A medical for the new job goes wrong. It seems my handsome fit as a flea hubby is not as healthy as we thought. In a heartbeat the new job is gone. As is the old job. Doctors confirmed it and hospital appointments await. So now, we are about to be homeless and he is jobless. As our main breadwinner this is a real issue for us. My job won’t stand scrutiny for a new rental, our caravan is too far away from the doctor and hospital. For once in my life I do not have a clue what to do next.
I mostly cry. I cry in the doctors, I cry at my friends house, I cry in the car and I cry myself to sleep. This is not my style, as a child I was taught that self pity is a luxury, but I don’t know what else to do.
Hubby is quiet, he is always quiet, and stoic and yet inside he is also crying. How did it come to this? From happy in our lives, our jobs and our home to the brink of losing everything. In just five weeks.
People are kind, those that we have told are offering support, practical and emotional, but it is no good. There is another job, hubby can do, part time, things could be worse, but I am lost. Lost for words and lost for actions. Despite it all, the biggest worry is hubby and his health. I want him well. Finding out we have to wait for almost eight weeks to see a specialist is another blow, time to worry and wonder, time when life is on hold.
I have weathered many storms, but this one, I don’t know. I think I have been just too tired, too sad and feel cut adrift in a way I have never felt before. I have no answers. A decision needs making and I am fairly sure we know what we shall do. We will be glad that we have our lovely place, somewhere we can be ourselves and spend some time while we wait for the universe to decide what will be. In the scheme of things this is ok. We are still the luckiest people on the planet for we have friends and family who love us, we have a plan and we will be alright. We have to be.