So, we’re getting evicted.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, though I was younger when it did, so I didn’t know too much about it at the time. The letter arrived from the landlords last night (good people, actually, just trying to deal with a crappy situation while in financial dire straits. Just like us!), and we had a family discussion about what we’re going to do about it.

I’m alright with talking about what’s going on here, but out of respect for the rest of the family, I’ll just leave out the brunt of what was said. But the highlights are that we’re out by the beginning of the year, my sister may or may not be moving in with her girlfriend, and my other sister will likely go where my parents go. And I’ll be moving into at N’s house.

My mother’s worried about breaking up the family, and in a way, that’s exactly what it is. But with the way finances have decided to play out, it’s the only way towards my parents getting back on an even keel again. Which, considering they’re not getting any younger, they deserve. It’s not fair to them to keep all of us together, driving each other crazy.

That didn’t stop the situation from being any less emotional, or the upcoming move to be any less hard. We’ve been at the triple decker we’ve been living in for over ten years. There’re more than enough memories there, good and bad. My tiny room has become something of an apartment within an apartment, and the safety and comfort of Home Sweet Eighth-of-a-Home, in spite of claustrophobic panic it sometimes inspires, will be hard to let go of.

But there’s no bail out, there’s no hidden answer. And when I move out this time, there’s no back to Square One should things not work out as planned, because Square One will belong to someone else soon. There might be a couch for me, but there won’t be my room.

And my mother will have to deal with at least one daughter, if not two, going on their way. Which is natural in the grand scheme of things, but it’s different when your hand is forced. I’m sure my father doesn’t enjoy it, but he’s not exactly one to get worked up if he can help it.

I don’t really blame him.

Thanksgiving will carry on as planned, and if it all works out we’ll be staying together through Christmas. The beginning of the year’s going to mean a fresh start in more ways than one, and I don’t really know where this is going to lead for me. A great reduction in stress? I’d say so. But getting cut off from the entity I’ve been apart of for my entire life, and been so invested in keeping every part of it going, even when I should’ve just walked away… I don’t know how I’ll handle that.

So. Strange new world come January first. The news is both awful and positive the more than I dwell on it, because in a way, it is going forward. It’s one thing to mooch off family, especially since the hand you’re dealt dictates you don’t really have a choice in the matter. But though I do consider N and her mother family, I refuse to let this be it. If I have to move along (and since that’s all I’ve been saying I wanted, if I’m not going to be outed as being full of shit, I have to), then this’ll be a rest stop on the way to The Next Big Thing.

Whatever that means.

Interesting that it comes after I find out I’m getting published for the first time though, and just a few days shy of the holiday. If it was in a script, people would be walking out of the theater.

If life imitates art, as some might argue, then someone needs to fire the writing staff and start fresh immediately.


~ by Sara on November 23, 2011.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: