I am alive. We are all alive.
I know you were worried. I can understand. You haven’t heard from me in months.
We have endured storms. Chattanooga has been ravaged by tornadoes and thunderstorms the likes of which the city has rarely seen. Just when the city was beginning to make progress on the cleanup from the first storm, a second wave hit and undid much of what had been repaired. Amidst the sadness and the despair and the loss, I couldn’t help but notice a certain parallel between the city’s situation and ours.
We have weathered situations we never thought we would encounter. We have faced them all as well as we could, and, despite much loss, we are still standing. Now, we are picking it all up again and trying our best to move forward. We have set our eyes on a new destination, and we have sacrificed much just to make it this far.
However, we no longer have a home.
It was not lost to the winds or storm-swept debris. It was not destroyed by an act of God. It was given freely, so that we may have a better life.
We sold our house in the middle of April, saying goodbye to one life in anticipation of welcoming another. Unfortunately, however, our new life is taking longer to arrive than I had previously planned. We uprooted our home without a place to plant it again, leaving us in limbo for the time being.
And that’s where we are currently: lost in transition.
This is a difficult time for us, and a crucial one as well. We are living with my parents, sleeping under the same roof that protected me from the storms when I was little. We are biding our time, holding hands in the dark and turning whispered aspirations into not-so-secret plans.
I have to believe that we can do this. It will take more than a few storms to tear us asunder.