Moving Back Home…

My friends have asked me where I’m calling home those days and I say,

“Let me count the places!”

The Hawthorne Suites on Central and Campbell

My brother-in-law’s house sharing space with a dog, a cat and a Larry Boy (A bird)

My well heeled stranger’s frilly white room in Richardson

The newly weds’ rented two bedroom house in Mesquite

The adjoining storage units over on Shiloh and Beltline

And…my mother-in-law’s lovely ranch in Lindale, East Texas; Hideaway Lake to be precise.

Here we have procured a special windshield sticker to get us through security at the gate, unpacked our large suitcases and set up temporary residence in her two spare rooms with a bath, much to her delight.

I call it staying,  she calls it living.  Hubs asserts he is too old to have moved back home with Mom!  But we have!

She is lonely, waking up, having her coffee, dusting, raking leaves and gazing out at her grassless lawn.

But she’s Got Jesus!  Big time.

She works four days a week while we stay at home and tinker on our devises and in case anyone gets the impression we are sponging off an old lady, she clarifies our situation for us,

“You’re not living here because you can’t afford to live on your own…” and adds, “and you’re certainly not to do anything for me!  You lead your own lives, I’ll look after myself.”

“How is that working for you?” one friend asked.

“Well, the oven thermostat was inaccurate and needed replacing, the water filter on the kitchen tap broke off, the front door wouldn’t close without a hard slam, the windows need weather stripping, glory holes need clearing, a space heater needed to be unpacked, her friends want to meet us, but apart from that…”

“Are you actually living in her house?”

“Staying,” I say. I’ve had plenty of practice fielding homeschooling questions over the years to stand firm in my counter cultural behaviour.

So, when we, Got Homeless, and sort of insinuated ourselves on her it was an answer to her prayer.

“I can’t tell you how much I enjoy having you here,” she tells me, “make yourself at home, move anything you want, I don’t mind.”

You don’t have to tell me twice!


MY office before I started scouting her house for a desk



After I’d scavenged and refreshed some throws

But boy it’s quiet out here in the piney woods!

I feel like giving God a ‘good ole boy’ thump on the back for inviting us to sample country living while keeping my mother-in-law company.


Folk here buy a new trailer with a windfall they’ve inherited

They shout ‘howdy neighbor’ at me as I walk past them sitting on their front porches.  Yes, they sit on front porches in the country…a lot…

They use words like ‘fixin’ to,’ critter, coyote

And ‘weeellll lookie here!’ when someone walks through the door.

They’ll ‘talk atcha later’ and mean it

No mains at Hideaway, but ‘the septic’ where nothing is flushable, well, no paper products!

Pick up trucks and old cars dot the yards, they’ve been there a long time, I can tell…there are trees growing out of the windows

“I love my Walmart,” stickers share space with “Jesus loves me” and “National Rifle Association” on the mud spattered bumpers of the four wheel drives

I can get patchy cell phone service across the lane

Gophers have been bad this year!


Dogs bark all night


There are no children!

Just rednecks and old people.

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Michelle Crider

2013-12-04 13:49:22 Reply

Sounds like me these days! except almost moved into an old house in Weatherford, TX. I looked out east but Weatherford is more English…they have an authentic English garden and an old courthouse…google it. you are most welcome to come visit here once I get boxes unpacked…send me a private email…


    2013-12-06 03:46:35 Reply

    Great to hear from you Michelle. Your new home sounds lovely, I need to look up Weatherford! Have blessed holidays

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