Four years ago (at 4pm as I write this) we were sitting in the heat waiting for the trailer break down guy to get our house dug out of the mud. He had been 2 hours late, he was sent instead of his father (who we had paid), and was now drunk. He had not followed the normal procedure to break down a house trailer (probably due to his lateness and the fact that his dad was usually there to oversee things). Our house sat unstable and a little twisted. The damage was pretty significant, broken walls and cabinets. But he was convincing when he said they'd have it out in the morning when the puller came back.
They did not, instead they jacked it up as high as they could on the puller truck, put blocks at the back to hold up the back, leaving the middle unsupported (anyone who has ever towed anything knows how bad that is! ) and surprise surprise, what happened?? They broke our house. In an instant we found ourselves homeless. It is what changed everything in our lives, even our outlook on the world. It all changed in a blink of an eye. The following days and weeks, were awful, including also the loss of our income. It was a very dark time.
For some reason it is hitting me hard this year. Much harder than the years past. It was not just a house, it was a home, it was a dream, our daughter was born there. To many people it was 'just' a house trailer, of no real significant importance, that was the hardest part, feeling like so few cared. Of course there was a lot of amazing kindness shown to us and very kind friends and random people. But for whatever reason, knowing some put so little value on our HOME was dehumanizing in some way. I certainly can't wish it on anyone, I hate hearing people have lost their home, it is too near my heart. It is something you really can't imagine until it happens.