copyright 2017 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
It was late afternoon. We sat around a large couch at a local coffee shop surfing the internet. Almost every day this was the place you'd find us for a few hours, since our internet had been shut down at home for lack of payment.
It was a pain in the butt to have to drive to town once a day to check our emails and such. But it was the only option we had. Gone were the days where we'd wake up in the morning, roll out of bed, turn on our computer and surf the net at our leisure.
There was a nonstop traffic of customers coming in and out getting their cup of heaven to go. They seemed to flow in like waves, probably more to do with the time of the day. We saw two local Sheriff Deputies come in and get a cup of java to go.
A few hours later we headed home as the sun began to set. The road was dark on the fifteen minute drive. Dad stopped the car in front of the large entrance gates to the Farm and I got out to open them. The property looked peaceful but the feel of it had changed for me. I got back in the car and we drove down to their house. Then I got out again and opened the gate to their yard. I figured I'd just walk home.
Mom got out of the car with her laptop and walked to the front door. I could hear the house keys jingle in her hand. I looked over at her and saw something on their front door. My stomach fell into a cavern of despair. Notices on the doors these days didn't signify good things.
"What is it Mom?" I asked.
"I don't know," Mom said.
She pulled the taped notice off the door. Dad grabbed his backpack from the back seat and headed to the door. I could feel the tension from him fill the air. Whatever it was probably wasn't going to be good for us.
Mom had put on her glasses to read the piece of paper. It was an Eviction notice. My heart dropped one hundred floors as the world turned on its side in a millisecond. I wasn't sure how much more of this shit I could take. Hell, I didn't know how much more any of us could take.
"I wonder if it was those Deputies we saw in the coffee shop?" I asked Dad.
You couldn't fault them for it though. They were just doing their job, like a lot of other people trying to scrape together a living these days.
I lost my appetite for dinner. My stomach was giving me a resounding "Fuck Food" signal. Darkness had come to swallow more pieces of me and I stood there dumbfounded and at a total loss. I didn't know what to do about it.
The shame was mounting. I couldn't seem to do anything to stop my heart from beating faster and my hands from sweating. When you get a notice posted on your front door it's like someone announcing to the world what a failure you are.
I had no clue how we were going to get out of this. I wasn't sure Dad knew either and that scared me even more. I wanted to believe though. I wanted to hope. I did. I'd heard of miracles. I'd read amazing stories about people who had received them. I just had never seen one or experienced it firsthand.
But boy, oh boy, were the inner voices doing routines over this bit of news.
What if we get thrown out on the street?
What if we can't get the money we need?
Where will we live?
Where will we put all the stuff?
What if they take all our stuff?
What if no one will help us?
Death by the 'What-Ifs' and the hits just kept coming.
"From the day you are given you notice until a sheriff might pack up and move your possessions out of your house you can expect a 6 week to 6 month time frame [varies by country, state, and county], with the average coming closer to 10 weeks."
Financial Firebird Corporation
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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...