My grandma is almost 92 years old. Mind you, her birthday is still five months
away. Mine is two months away, and I am
holding firmly to 51 and will not be “almost 52” until the day before my
birthday. But when you reach the upper
ages, you can take charge, once again, of your age and be proud of who you are
WHEN you are. At least that’s my theory.
I am the oldest person in my generation of both my father’s
side and my mother’s side. I am the
oldest child, each of them is/was the oldest child. Even though I was three when my brother was
born, I can actually remember being the only one. Honestly, though, I have always felt like the
proverbial square peg. I still do, in
fact. I shake my head so often anymore,
it seems my neck is just going to split in two one of these days.
I’ll never forget the day I found out that being the square
peg didn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.
I have grown up with seemingly preconceived notions that I had developed
through listening (my grandma used to say, “Little pictures have big ears,”
which I heard as “pitchers,” and I wondered how pitchers could have ears). When visiting with some extended family and
learning more about my life and family as it existed when I was really small,
those notions seemed to shatter, and a clearer picture emerged.
I cherished through my late childhood being able to see and
often visit with extended family members.
Then when I was 13 ½, that changed abruptly because of a
misunderstanding that was clearly blown out of proportion and lasted for four
years. I didn’t say anything then, but even
though I supported and believed what I was hearing at home, something didn’t
click just right, and it always bothered me.
I still regret those missed years.
Now that I’m 51 (okay, ALMOST 52), I can see the isolation
that created. Thanks to social media, I
have developed a cordial relationship with my people, and that has been salve
to the wounds of hate and intolerance I’ve personally experienced from my People. And I’ve recognized that the reason those
early days of misunderstanding didn’t click right is because they WEREN’T
right.
Part Deux
Life has been hard for the past few years, both emotionally
and financially. Physically too, I
should add. Now that we’ve moved and I’ve
taken on a full-time job, the emotional and physical issues have greatly
improved. Thank you, Modern
Science! Financially, while I am making
a much lower salary than the income I made from time to time when we lived in
Virginia, the steadiness of the paycheck and always knowing when I’ll get paid
is very nice.
We really loved our last landlord in Virginia, especially
after how hard it was to deal with Marine Lawyer, our previous landlord. Our financial struggles began while living in
Marine Lawyer’s house, though he saw that as a character flaw. Nice Guy landlord was kind and generous and
very concerned about making sure our home was safe and cared for. Sadly, the economy just hit him hard, and he
lost his rental homes in an effort to save the roof over his and his wife’s
heads. Being a man of integrity, though,
he contacted us immediately to let us know his plight and that we were no
longer to pay him rent. We were able to
live in the home several months rent free, which helped so much as my work had
tanked around the same time, and we wouldn’t have been able to feed our family
on what I was making if we hadn’t had the break from paying rent. Sadly, of course, we were not able to save
any money as a result.
We moved to Idaho to a home that just seemed to fall into
our laps. We have been here six months,
and despite a few quirks about the place, we love it. It’s so much nicer than our previous home, at
several hundred dollars less per month. And
it’s just a nice place. We’ve paid our
rent each month on time. We have had no
issues with breaking or harming any part of the house (no easy feat when you
have six people, two cats, and a huge dog living here!)
And then we find out that our landlady, despite repeated
questioning and assurance that she was financially sound and on time with her
payments, is facing foreclosure because she has not, in fact, paid ANY house
payments since before we moved in. And
now she’s belatedly decided to sell and is breathing down our necks to “cooperate”
with a Realtor so we can be booted out if/when it actually sells. Like we did a single thing to bring about
this turn of events. ::sigh::
We had to hire an attorney, who said, “No $&*@! She said
that?” We will either have till the end of September to move, during which time
we will pay no rent, or we will be able to continue paying rent and live in the
home till our lease ends, the end of January.
I hate moving. No,
really, I HATE moving.
We have looked at a few homes, some of which were very
promising, and we just haven’t felt right about it yet. I’m not sure if it’s just not time to move or
we just haven’t found the right place, or what, but we’re not rushing to go
anywhere just yet.
Our married daughter and her husband moved in with us about
two months ago, so we not only want to live in a four-bedroom home, at this point
we HAVE to. And that’s fine. Seriously, when they are ready to move out on
their own, we’d like to have an extra bedroom so that in case anybody wants to
visit, they can.
I’m babbling, I know. I just have a lot on my mind. I’m trying to hold onto my belief that we have experiences to help us grow and that it is important to be grateful for the challenges and what they bring. It is not always easy to be grateful, but it is easier to deal with the trials, when we focus.
So that's how it goes in our corner. How 'bout yours?
