There Used To Be a Door Here

I have to start at the beginning, and in order to do that, I have to include some research I've been following for awhile. It's called the Sandwich Generation:

Main Entry: sandwich generation

Function: noun:

a generation of people who are caring for their aging parents while supporting their own children

My mom is a hip lady, no doubt about that. And I wouldn't necessarily call her "aging" either, at least, not "aged". But she is over fifty, on her second divorce, and trying to survive on a limited income. (She's a preschool teacher...they gross maybe $14k annually.)

Alright, so. With a divorce comes stupid petty stuff, like settlements. And division of property. The house my mother and her husband were living in was her parent's home, and set on 14 acres of land. Unfortunately for her, the property was gifted to both of them, due to two reasons: he was the "breadwinner" (mortgage companies like those) and marriages are expected to last forever.

Exit Husband. Uh-oh. Husband wants $50,000 or for her to sell the house and give him half. The house and property that have been promised to my brother and I since we were children. Which is easier to do? My mom took out another loan on the property and cashed in on her retirement and took over Husband's truck payment, all in order to meet his $50k demand. Can you see where this is going?

The mortgage payment is now too high, along with that truck payment my mom now has to make. She doesn't have enough money to live in this big house by herself. My brother is not financially stable right now to move in and help her. Hmm...who does that leave?

Me. My fiance. My children. I'm 28 years old, and I'm moving in with my mother. Part of me hates this. I wasn't forced into this decision, but I certainly feel as though I had no choice. Part of me delights in this choice, as I will have a large living room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms to do with what I wish. That means paint samples! I love paint samples, and have even been known to gather and pore over them with no such intentions to paint anything. Paint an apartment wall? Unthinkable.

Before paint samples, however, comes the walls to put them on. Walls that were put up in the 1940's and have not been changes since. Wallpaper from the 1940's, that's certainly pretty (my camera refused to take a picture of it, it was that good looking).

There was a door in that wall, leading to the kitchen. Now it is just a wall. Soon it will be a painted wall. I think of those paint samples nestled gently in my purse and my toes curl. I am sure that my camera will take no offense with these walls.