FMF Day 3: Remember

"Remember my yellow room mama?" "When we will go home, mama?"Wyatt would ask me these kinds of questions over and over again after we lost our home in 2008. I was always amazed as the months turned into years that his memories stayed so accurate. Wyatt was only 6 when the financial devastation that followed my injury, took its largest toll. This time it took our home.

It took our little red house nestled in a beautiful valley surrounded by mountains. It took our little red house that looked like a wreck to everyone else when we bought it, yet to us, we saw in it, our dream home. It took our 5 acres. It took our gardens and our goat pens. It took our shops and our schoolhouse. It took everything.

As we drove out the gate one last time, I realized that we were losing something far greater than our home. We were losing our feeling of home, belonging and roots. We had planted our family story in that house and its roots ran deep. I had moved throughout my entire life. I never felt like I belonged anywhere. After buying that home, the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. This was my first HOME, it felt safe and secure. It would be a very long time before I felt that way again.



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