I’m sitting here with butterflies in my stomach and a lump in my throat because I’m about to share something deeply personal with you. It is not the whole story…only a piece, but it’s still hard to share.
I’ve talked a little about the circumstances that changed our life several years ago but never giving too much detail until now.
A couple of months ago I had the pleasure of working with Nechamie to create a memoir.
I first thought of writing a letter to my children, but they already have that in this space.
Nechamie had visited my blog beforehand to get a sense of where I came from, our daily life, and how I became the woman I am today.
I really appreciated that because the questions she asked about my life helped me in making the decision to have her write about something I’ve had trouble putting into words myself.
“It was her birthday. Darcel turned 34 that day, the day she unsuspecting walked onto her front porch.
A tiny desire for a birthday surprise waiting on the other side of the doorfluttered up. Hope springs eternal after all. Instead, there was a policemanstanding there. Her heart stopped for a moment. “Is everything ok?”“I’m here to make sure you vacate the premises,” he said.“What the heck is he talking about?” Darcel thought to herself. Then she saw thewhite slip of paper he held. Eviction notice. He was holding an eviction notice.“You got the first notice weeks ago,” he said. “You had weeks to take care of thisand today was the final day. You need to take your things and go.”She shook her head in disbelief. What notice? An eviction notice wasn’t somethingshe’d forget about.Then the sinking feeling, the blinding rage. He’d known. He’d gotten the notice and hid itfrom her, not bothering to let her know the rent wasn’t being paid, that they were inimminent danger of losing their home.A little hand tugged at Darcel’s leg. “Mommy what is he saying?”She looked at her three children standing near her. Her five year old and eight year oldgirls. Her two year old son.She couldn’t give into the panic grabbing at her insides. She needed to be strong forthem.“He’s telling us that we’re going to stay with Mamaw and PeePaw for a few days!”her voice cracked even as she tried to make it cheerful.“Let’s all grab a laundry basket and put our favorite books and toys inside.”Darcel quickly called her dad and he left work early to help her pack whatever she couldin the brief time the police allowed.So much had to be left behind, piles of clothing, books, toys and games, years ofaccumulated possessions. But none of it compared to the crushed dreams left behind that locked door”
I read that and I’m taken right back to that day. Then I look up and see my kids playing and I am so grateful for the very nice roof over our heads, in a good neighborhood. Rent is always paid and I know this place will not be taken from us.
At the time, I felt completely hopeless and worthless. I think of all the hard things we’ve dealt with since.
That day set so many events into motion. I sometimes still can’t believe we’re here.
I have a good life! It’s full, stable, a bit overwhelming at times, but it’s mine, and I love it.
Nechamie captured every detail and emotion when she wrote this for me. She made it easy for me to share, felt like I was sitting down with a friend over coffee. I was ugly crying by the time I reached the end of the entire story.
Do you have a story to tell? Maybe leave a letter to your children or thoughts of an autobiography?
You will receive $100 off her services when you contact Nechamie directly and mention my post.
I don’t normally ask, but I would greatly appreciate it if you shared this post and showed some love in the comments.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read!