I'm so thankful for my little sis and her husband who are letting me crash at their house for a few weeks. This isn't the first time I've lived with my sister. Way back when I first moved to this mountain town, before I moved in with Mountain Ma and Pa, I lived with my sister for a few weeks.
Only back then she wasn't married yet. Back then she had a couple of roommates, and no spare bedroom. Little sis loved me enough to let me share her bed for a week or two. We hadn't done that since we were children. We survived for a short time, until the Mountain Folks offered up their spare bedroom, and I'm pretty sure Little Sis was glad to see me go.
Thankfully, she and her husband own a house now. It has more than one spare bedroom. One which I get to claim for a little while. Don't worry. I am pitching in, and washing dishes, and taking out the trash whenever I can. I am grateful.
There was a time way back in my former gypsy life when I realized that the difference between the unemployed me and the homeless on the street was the family and friends who loved and cared for me. Who made sure I was fed and clothed. Who didn't get fed up with me when I was rejected for another job, even if they were convinced I was bombing every interview. They loved me. They supported me. They lifted me up. They prayed for me. It wasn't just my parents. Or my family. It was a whole slew of loving and supporting people who had my back.
I don't ask for help. Usually not even if I need it. I was blackberry picking the other day with a friend. And being stubborn like I am, I had to go for the berries way up high. It didn't end well. I ended up stuck in a bush. I had to ask for help out. My friend feigned shock at my request before helping me out of the thorns. I don't like asking for help. I don't know if I would've asked my friends for help way back then when I didn't have a job or a place of my own. But they offered me help anyway. They offered me support anyway.
I was talking about living in community with a neighbor. What it means and how rare it is to find a neighborhood that has it. For me, it's knowing that I'll have a roof over my head even if I don't have a place of my own. It's a smile and chat on the walk home from work. It's sitting on the front porch with a friend. It's knowing that someone next door has my back if I need anything. It's having the help I need, even before I'm willing to ask for it.
I am so thankful for the community I found living in that little mill studio. I hope when all this house hopping comes to an end, I can either head back to that little community or find another neighborhood that recognizes the value in knowing who lives next door.