His smile gave it all away, he was beaming with joy. “Throw it all in the dumpster,” the manager had ordered when the company he worked for delivered new cubicles and panel systems, and that’s when my husband spoke up and had asked if he could take them instead. Before the day was over, he had written permission, stating he could take all the cabinets and worksurfaces.
My husband’s second paycheck, still under a thousand dollars for two full weeks of work, was celebrated the same way as the first one. We drove to the bank together, cashed the check, and back at home, we got the hidden cash out of the kitchen drawer. We called our landlord, asked him if he wanted to pick up the rent, and an hour later he parked in our driveway.
She invited me to stop at her little shop the next time my grandma and I would drive down to the village. “You come by and pick out what you want.” I could not wait. I had helped at our neighbor’s farm for days and even though I was young, my work and my assistance had been appreciated.
It was the end of April in 2010, and we had big plans for the coming weekend. We needed to make it only through another week, then my husband would get paid again. We had $80 left to spend, the fridge and freezer were still nicely stocked, and we only needed a few fresh groceries to make it to the coming week.
The second most important paycheck in my life was the one my husband brought home two weeks after we had moved to Memphis. Seven and a half months after we had lost our home and almost everything in it, we looked at the check and acted like children.
Genuine goodness, the kind that overwhelms you and leaves you speechless, and makes you wonder if you are deserving of such an act, stays often hidden. Actually, truth to be told, it can show up in the dark.
I know, because it parked in front of our home. I watched it arrive!
We spend the biggest part of Sunday in the car, driving through the neighborhood. We had noticed people were pulling out the trashcans for Monday already. Like most people, we had picked up things on the street before, but we never intentionally went out to go garbage shopping. We were hoping to find a dining chair, or maybe we would get really lucky and someone would throw an old table away.
The first night in our new home was special in so many ways. How did it feel to close and lock the door behind us after so many months of not knowing in what state or what city we would end up, always wondering if -and when- we would have a place to call home again? Feeling unsettled for so long, always worrying if we could keep our dogs and if we could stay together. Being at home again, felt like nothing I had experienced before. When you regain something that was lost and could have been lost for a very long time, it’s a feeling of humbled victory.
We turned left on the old gravel road and waved a last goodbye to my best friend, who was holding our little dog in her arms. Then we closed the windows, and we focused on the road ahead of us.
We waited for Kurt’s background check. We were both nervous and fearful, for different reasons. “He wants me to co-sign for a car,” she told me and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You will not do that, right?”