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By late morning my Parents had gathered up another load of stuff from the A-Frame. I told them the night before that they could do some laundry at my place. The Bank hadn't wanted them to turn the power off yet at the A-Frame, so all the power was still on which was good. Plus my Parents hadn't moved the washer and dryer over to the Glass House on Parcel B because there were no plumbing and electrical hook-ups for it in the house.
I helped them unload a little of the stuff when they brought it over to the Glass House and Main House compound on Parcel B. For every load they brought over, between the car and the trailer, it took about an hour or more to unload. They were loading stuff onto the trailer but there wasn't much organization to it. The stress of moving, and the added weight of that damn Official Court paper slapped onto their old front door at the A-Frame didn't make for a fun moving experience for anyone.
A second crew showed up at the A-Frame, allegedly called by the Bank, to move everything into one room in the house. They did have the combination for the lock on the door to get in, so one has to assume they were legit. The Bank didn't want to be held up by our stuff, getting the house ready to sell.
My Dad met the crew at the A-Frame, as we were still within our legal timeframe to continue to get our stuff out of it. He told the crew we had until the 28th and that we were planning on buying the property back. He told them it didn't make any sense for us to have to move our stuff again.
They called their Boss and explained the situation, and the Boss agreed with the general consensus, it made no sense at all. Plus, they couldn't possibly move everything into one room because there was too much stuff still in the house. So, the crew packed up their things and left.
Both my Parents said the crew seemed really nice. The crew felt bad for all the people, including us, that were losing their homes. They were people with families and bills who had to put food on the table just like everyone else. And like the Courthouse Clerks, the local Sheriff's, and the real estate agents, they all wanted us to get our property back.
My Parents spent a couple more hours in the house. After almost nine days of our moving efforts, the house was starting to look vacant. It was sad. I tried not to think about it. But it was staring me in the face. Little-by-little, box-by-box, and day-by-day we were being forced off the Farm.
The degree of shame and vulnerability was off the fucking scale. So was the stress. The moving was great exercise and it did help the stress by expending energy. I don't think anyone had trouble sleeping. Well, except for the panic attacks that came in the middle of the night and first thing in the morning. I woke up trying to sweat the hopelessness out of me. It was a reality that crawled in our hearts, eating away at all we had.
"Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
American Philosopher, Poet
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A TASTE OF DESTRUCTION Book 1 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
I woke up to a world crumbling around me. Our Family Farm was in the middle of foreclosure as an economic crisis rippled across America. Hope was fading fast and there was no end in sight to the chaos coming for us, ready to destroy everything we...