I am 30 years old. I have a husband, who I have known for nearly a decade and with whom I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary next week. I have a 6-and-a-half (as he reminded me this morning) son, our wee (well, getting not-so-wee these days) Monkey Boy. And we are homeless. Not out on the street, nowhere warm to sleep overnight, homeless. But me staying with my parents in Portland while I work down there, Husband & Monkey living in Tacoma while he works up here, paying rent so we don't feel quite as much like freeloading boomerang generationers, driving up and down I-5 as much as our schedules allow to spend time as a family, both of us with our own rooms, but no actual structure/apartment/studio to call *home*. Yup, it's weird, especially when we've been living parent-free for over a decade. Especially this time of year, when all we really want to do (especially in the yucky, slightly depressing Pacific Northwest winter weather) is hole up at home and spend time as a family playing board games, watching movies, etc. I guess you could say we are Our-Own-Homeless.
I'm not really going anywhere with this...just feeling a little melancholy this afternoon, I suppose. Still, at least I'm not Our-Own-Homeless alone, right?
ps: I tried to post this yesterday from Tacoma, but the internet connection (or maybe the computer?) wasn't cooperating. Oh well. Back in Portland now. No husband/child (boo!) but reliable internet (yay!) here.
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