Going Home

Finding Ever After: Post 1

Author taking back her own steering wheel…

The A-Team. Remember them? Somehow, week after week, that motley crew faced crisis after crisis with a crazy-concocted plan that at the last moment proved the proper antidote. Hannibal would bite off the end of his cigar, give a cocky smile, and proclaim, “I love it when a plan comes together.”

Which never happens in real life, right? I mean, sure, we all can have plans to achieve our goals, but hiccups are bound to happen along the way. Plans, especially mine, tend to be more like dreams. Nice thoughts, really, but unlikely to happen.

So, I had this dream:

So where to from here? Reuniting the kiddos. Renting a place with all seven of them and I. Probably back in the small town they grew up in.

Notice the date on that post? Yup. Almost two years ago. Two years of busting my ass, bouncing around from place to place, state to state. Two years of scattered people, pets, and belongings. Having scares with armed creapos and continuing death threats. Now throw in a fun pandemic while working with dementia sufferers and ones on hospice. Fun, fun, fun.

Ya know, I’ve literally lived in a cage for a while. Gotten to the point where nothing much phases me. Which, ironically, bothers me the most.

Now, boom! All these scattered dreams, wishes, tears….

all are actually falling into place.

A friendly old farmer who just happens to really want to rent us a house on his land… really, really cheap….

Gifts from friends, family, and ones who claim they owe me… furniture, money, time, and resources to pull this all together…

Two of my boys (OK, so obviously the one who got married is going to remain with his wife, natch.) are…

Actually willing to move over 900 miles to be with us (my four daughters and myself). A perk of the pandemic, I guess, is the fact they are both unemployed, so there is nothing holding them back. They will help with expenses. So I don’t have to keep working 60+ hours a week and having mental breakdowns quite so often. (Hopefully?!!?)

AND! Our pets! Dear sweet Bubba…

Bubba, my unofficial therapy dog who belongs to my son and his wife who live where they don’t take pets. He’s been bounced from kind soul to soul… strangers willing to watch him for us, until…

And my daughter’s beloved rabbits. She was reunited with them for the first time in over six months yesterday….

Anna and Toast, the mini-Rex Rabbit.

Ok, so notice my dream-post I quoted earlier… that part about going back to the small town they grew up in…

My way wiser than I eldest daughter reminded me of a simple truth… home isn’t a place, it’s the people.

So, if I can see this plan to completion… if it all can come together… I will grab the handle on my hot cocoa mug and proclaim,

I love it when a plan comes together!

I’m going to try daily check-ins until I can say this… hopefully by the Ides of March.

Cheers!