So I needed an essay for class, so I’ll post it here to satisfy my 365 purposes for the day as well:
In the Spring of 2010, I was homeless. I had a job, a family, and a girlfriend—homeless; still I was. It was November of the previous year that I learned of the situation that had been thrust upon us. I knew my father had gotten a promotion that would lead us back to the northeast (he, sooner than we) and I knew that my mother and I would be left without a home for the last month of my senior year of high school, as we had to sell our house within a predetermined number of months from when my father left. We closed on the sale the first week of May and we departed from Texas in the first week of June. It was during that month when I learned just who I was.
Emily and I had started dating February 22nd, 2010—she dreaded my departure even more than I did. The last month of high school is supposed to be filled with yearbook signings, prom chit-chat, and the usual buzz over graduation. Mine was filled with open houses, guest bedrooms, and 6-hour sessions in the local coffee shops (I mean, where else am I supposed to capitalize on free wi-fi?). I had moved around my entire life, however the five years spent in Texas marked my longest stint in any particular location. I loved it there. I was attached with the roots that had been set down and the profound growth was yielded from a great environment. Sure there were rocky moments, but those were far from my mind. Now all that occupied my thoughts were visions of the hectic schedule my mother and I had crafted to get us through the month of May. The first week was fairly simple; my mother was flying to Pennsylvania to house-hunt with my father, which meant I was able to stay with my brother for the time. He lived close, only a few miles from school and our good relationship meant relaxation and fewer restrictions than when the parental units were in charge. I spent my time bonding with my brother. He was getting married in a little over a month, so he was glad to have company with whom he could enjoy his final weeks of bachelordom. That week flew by, Monday melted into Sunday with ease and like that, mom was back.
We refused to burden my brother any further, so we departed from there and onto our first “foster home”, of sorts. They were family friends that we had met through church and they were very spontaneous. We never seemed to have plans when living with them, but somehow we always ended up doing something. I wasn’t a very big fan of this housing arrangement, but we had a roof over our heads and a bed to sleep in at night. We lived there for a week and a half. During the days, I was swamped with choir rehearsals and other schoolwork. The nights when I was off from work, I’d spend hanging out with Emily, trying to enjoy our time together without dwelling on what was to come, that Summer. She’d become engrained in my life so quickly and I cared for her in such a genuine fashion, I really tried to throw myself into the relationship as much as I could so I would cherish it enough once we started trying the long-distance game. I wore myself out and spread myself thin. I knew May would prove to be the most challenging month of my life, but I wouldn’t let it win.
The third and fourth weeks marked the final two weeks of my homelessness: they were grueling. Week three, I worked my final shift at my job. It also was the week of prom. The night was fun; not quite as magical as the clichés, but not nearly as bad as the cynics would say. Emily and I had a wonderful evening and were able to enjoy it with those who mattered most to us. I’ll never forget the way her dress sparkled, or the way she smiled when I picked her up. The night was wonderful and it would carry me through my final days in Texas. My mother and I were staying in “foster home” number two. The house was lavish (and the couple who lived there were also family friends through church) but it’s where I felt like I lacked the most. We were living in a life that wasn’t our own. It was strange and I couldn’t enjoy it. My mother spent most days killing time with a latte and a few good books in the local café. I wandered aimlessly, killing gas and spending up the last precious time I had with friends; still, the home I didn’t have left me pondering my fate that awaited me. I wound up writing—it was my outlet to calm the unknowns in my life. It gave me control and a sense of peace. I learned a lot that month, but those lessons would stick with me forever.
The takeaway was realizing how important solidarity was. Lacking a home left me looking for a foundation in other aspects of my life. I can proudly say that being homeless for a month made me grateful for the blessings I did have. I had Emily (and still do, despite 1500 miles, 2 years, and multiple flights back and forth), I had my mom and brother, and I had the support of a creative outlet to satiate my worries and weaknesses. These were my home—they protected me, they comforted me, and they were where I dwelled when the hardships came—and for them, I am truly thankful.
Posted 3 months ago with 0 notesTags: 365 writing challenge
