I've left a significant gap in my narrative. Perhaps this is because it's hard to write about things as they are happening. It's best to let them sit for a while, figure out what really happened and write about it months later.
So for today, I thought I'd let you know a bit about the events that led to our relocation.
See, as unhappy and broke as my family was a year ago, we looked on the surface like things were going well. We lived in a huge house in an excellent neighborhood. We were also deeply in hock, and I hated, hated hated that house. With a passion.
Everything changed the day my realtor friend Regina informed me that housing prices had gone up; our house had hit the Magic Number. The number at which we could sell it and get completely out of debt.
I wasn't even thinking about what we'd do next. Move to the country? Move back to California? Somewhere completely different? I just knew what I didn't want, and that was to spend one more day in that monstrosity.
So Regina says to me, "You could always live in the house my dad just bought".
To clarify: Regina's dad, let's call him Harry, is a sweet southern gentleman of about 85 with more money than he knows what to do with. Harry decided he wanted to buy some investment property, and had just put down a deposit on a house about three blocks from Peaches' school. "Hey, let's go see it!" Regina and I joked. "Why not?" "Let's go! It'll be fun!"
The moment I walked in to that house, I fell in love with it. This house has the best vibe I'd ever felt. It was as if I'd lived there forever, and I hadn't even been past the entryway.
The bad news: the Sweet House was only for rent. The good news: it was for rent. I went home, gathered up husband and Peaches, and showed it to them. We moved in a month later and put the monstrosity on the market. We had no idea how long we'd stay in the Sweet House, but there was never any doubt in our minds that a lot of healing was going to take place there.
Stay tuned for Part 2...