copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
I heard a car pull up outside in the afternoon.
"Hello? Anyone home?" I heard a male voice call from downstairs.
My heart wanted to eject itself from the chest of walls as blood flushed my face. I wanted him to go away! I wanted it all to go away and leave me alone! COULD I GET NO PEACE! Damn I hated this! There was nothing I could do. I was helpless.
I stayed upstairs in my room continuing to read the codes in my Code Book. I kept reading until I felt my heart quiet down. The Deputy got back in the car and drove off. I felt like a disaster had passed. But it hadn't.
I couldn't have another panic attack. I read through some more emotional codes, did some EFT [Emotional Freedom Technique] for fear, and repeated our new affirmation five times in a row. I had to keep myself as calm as I could. I didn't want to revisit the hole.
Then I went downstairs to the master bedroom and looked out the sliding glass door. Sure enough there was a notice stuck to the glass. It was pretty official looking too. I steadied myself. Then I opened the door and took the notice off the door. As I held the official document in my hand, I felt no fear. It didn't bother me at all to feel the paper on my skin. It seemed a little funny now, our third Eviction.
But who was counting?
None of us had a clue where else we would go if we got Evicted from the Main House. We'd run out of houses on the property to stay in.
I grabbed the cordless phone in their bedroom and called my Dad and to tell him about the Notice. He wasn't surprised.
"Well, we could always stay up on the hill [The Shop on Parcel C]," Dad said.
I knew he was joking, sort of. But I didn't think it was funny. I could hear him talking to my Mom in the background of the phone. She was freaking out and probably blaming me again for all of it.
"No, she didn't answer the door," I heard Dad tell Mom.
Mom tried to put the blame on other people. She tried to shift her own frustrations onto others. I guess it made her feel better about herself. I don't know. Personally it angered the fuck out of me. I couldn't believe the balls of her. The reality was, she put a lot of her shit onto me, and didn't think another thought about it. Just push your guilt onto others and maybe you'll grab a breath of air for yourself.
In Mom's mind, it was my fault we got the notice. If hadn't answered the door, then we wouldn't have been evicted. But that wasn't the case. They were going to leave the notice, regardless whether anyone answered the door or not. The notice would be left because it was the law. The date was due and it was time to pay The Man. It was the sum total and plain truth.
I missed my normal bed. I missed my kitchen and my shower. I missed the normalcy of what had been my life. Even though I hadn't been happy or satisfied with my life, it was the only life I knew. I hadn't been happy but at least I had been comfortable.
Now, I was anything but comfortable. I didn't like where I slept, who I lived with, how I felt, what my body looked or acted like. I didn't like anything about my life. I was the most uncomfortable I'd ever been, all that way down to the core and all the way out. I hated my life and myself. There was no escape.
Dad had seen a leak around the toilet today. Though for all his trying he couldn't seem to recreate it. It seemed to come from the bottom of the toilet at the seal, which was never a good sign because it alluded to a septic problem. Or that was his best guess.
I saw one of the skunk babies just outside the mudroom door by our make shift recycle bin. He was a cute lil' fellar. Funny too! Then the little shit charged me, and it ceased to be funny.
"You're a bad skunk baby! And you better cut it out because I'm losing my patience," I told the little fur ball of attitude.
It finally gave ground and left, clearly unimpressed with my show of dominance.
Late that night I saw the momma skunk and the four babies while I was heating my dinner. She didn't take any shit from them either. She was pretty ruthless. I guess you could say she was a cranky mommy. Course I guess you had to be if you were raising skunk babies. They were still so cute though. Even if they came with an attached stink bomb!
I went for a walk after dinner. The property was quiet. It was a beautiful evening. But the whole energy of the place had changed. And we were intruders on our own land.
"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you."
Rita Mae Brown
American Author, Poet, Screenwriter, Activist
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