Writing Challenge: Jan 21, 2017

Prompt: Write about someone who lost, or is about to lose their home.

*Note: this is a real event and is highly personal. I have been reluctant to post personal things, but decided to step outside my comfort zone.*

I remember worrying for months about how we were going to pay the bills. I knew we were poor. I knew Mom was struggling to keep up, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before we slipped under. I was 12 when it happened. I didn’t know what a foreclosure was, I just knew that we had to leave. I loved that seafoam green house on Pine Warbler Drive. We had just under one acre of land in South East Texas with fifteen trees. I would know; I climbed them all in the hot, humid summers. Over the course of six years we made that place a home despite the holes in the walls, the air conditioner and heater that broke down every year, the mice, roaches, termites, and carpenter ants inside the walls and the backed-up septic tank, mosquitoes, and fire ants outside. The bright wood floor and large, covered, front deck made up for the “unfit for human habitation” infestations that refused to go away no matter how long we cleaned or how often the place was fumigated.

I hated leaving all my friends from school, and my grandparents who lived only a few miles away, but the bank said we had to go. We have lived in several other places, and one or two other places that felt almost home-like. We never stayed anywhere as long as that foam green mess on Pine Warbler Drive; that’s the place I dream about most.


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