So at the beginning of the year I shared with all of you that my goal is to move out of my childhood home and maybe even Iowa all together. Part of working up to my goal is me posting things about this whole growing up and leaving the nest thing every week, so I thought why not start with the nitty gritty stuff?
Last summer we found out that our home was finally going to be foreclosed on. We had been getting letters in the mail, but they were confusing and my mom didn’t really investigate them the way I hoped she would, The things on the internet led me to believe that I shouldn’t investigate them too hard either, because getting my name involved in anything with the mortgage company or courts could lead to me being held financially responsible.
Imagine Linda’s shock when a man from church asked her about the foreclosure because he saw the notice in the paper. It was a rough day.
I know that millions of Americans are losing their homes every day. The bailout that we were led to believe would support the people didn’t really.
For a while I was angry with my mom. Angry because she hadn’t told me how far behind she was in house payments. Angry that she didn’t trust me enough to share that she was struggling and scared.
But I also respect my mom. She quit her job in 2013 because the church organization she worked for wanted her to announce that homosexuality was a sin that was just as horrific as murder. The demand came a few short months after my youngest brother came out on Facebook.
That’s right. My mom decided that her relationship with her children, that her love of her children, was more important than her job.
I’m disappointed that the people I saw as my extended family, the people who helped raise my brothers and I, disappeared because of something that one day will seem so silly. But hey, one day those people will feel ridiculous. And sad. Because they threw away the love and loyalty of people who adored them. And that sucks for them.
But for me? In January 2016, the home my parents bought in 2011 will no longer be mine. But I’ll have memories. And my brothers. And my mom. And that is way more important than a pile of bricks.
So next time you read about someone being foreclosed on, don’t get all uppity about how some people are lazy. Because I can pinky promise you, my mom is the opposite of lazy.