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I’m Not Panicking. Promise.

I woke up this morning and felt the cool air come through the window into my bedroom, a nice break from the heavy thickness that has been lingering around town lately. I breathed it in and allowed it to turn into the feelings of autumn. My eyes remained closed as it speared its way through my mind with images of pumpkins and sweaters, until it found my basket of reasoning right next to my closet of rationale. At that, my eyes snapped open and panic set in. Again. Still.

These next few months will be quite full. I am merely expelling my growing inner concern and simple nervousness about wanting it all to fall into place. I’d love to sleep at night.

(Wow this feels good.)

I don’t hate it in Massachusetts. We simply don’t fit in and that’s OK. So, we’re off to North Carolina, where we belong. Where my Tyler is. Home.

I own a house in Southampton, MA. It’s a gorgeous 1800’s farmhouse that needs love. It will need to be cleaned and sold and I don’t see how that will even work with us living here. Have you met us? Have you met David? He’s loud.

This is David

Also, as I look at the place from a different perspective like from a mother of a darling little lacy girl, or the cleanest queen of Pinterest, I worry. I begin to notice, more, the hand prints on the ceiling from when Baylee finally could touch it with a spry jump. He keeps testing that theory, and so do the others (maybe me, too). Also, apparently when one walks up or down the stairs, the white walls are irresistible to the smear. If you have boys, you know what smear is.

I also see the gobs of dog hair that were missed by Max’s daily big-brooming. There are the most charming slants here or there in the house, a marble’s delight, possibly from being here for about 150 years. Also, our forsythia bush is overgrown because in the winter “the animals in there will be cold” and in the summer “but what if they have babies in there” so now it’s a giant mass of green waving vegetation. I realize this will be quite the job.

I love this house and its quirky angles and very wild wildlife. It’s eccentric with its whimsical creaking doors and out-of-place scent of lilac in the winter. I listen at night to the packs of coyotes traveling along the game trail, and I will miss locking eyes with a bear or young deer while I hang towels on the line. But, it’s time, and we need to work.

Want to live here?

Sammy is going to finish his degree in a hybrid environment as an environmental science major. I am overwhelmed with pride for this kid, and I know he can push through it, all while he maintains his position as my sweet listener.

Max will enter into his sophomore year of college which will be remote and is also learning to drive, and (oh yeah) he still has to decide where he wants to go next semester in NC.

Baylee, the youngest who just turned fourteen will be learning remotely if it’s allowed. Otherwise, we will find the right program for him to enter into homeschooling.

I will also enter into my last semester at Westfield State, and have tacked an internship on to that. During that time I will also be looking for a job. A job. I’ve stayed home with the boys all these years, so, yikes to the second power.

Why not wait until next spring? Because we already did that once and here we are. We are ready now and we want to leave as soon as we can. Baylee will be schooling from home so that part won’t matter. I am hoping to work remotely, and Sammy has that option as well.

Palms sweating again.

I dip deeply into my brain’s little knock-off purse with sequined hunter holly leaves and shiny red berries. In it are what Christmas could look like if we pull this all off. I go there when I need some supplemental energy. It tastes like peppermint and smells like a deep green Frasier fir that’s littered with tinsel and Popsicle sticks with dried Elmer’s. Roger’s village will be up no matter where we are, in a camper or cabin, on a mantel or the floor. I keep those hopes tucked away in the sequined purse because they can’t roam freely. It’s mine to look at when I allow myself to. My own little syrupy pill that helps me sleep.

I don’t care what the house we’re in looks like. We may rent until this place sells or buy something cheap in the mountains that we will live in temporarily. All we need is a place that has no cockroaches, no neighbors or ones who love roosters, and room enough for each of us to have our own little space.

I see us wearing brand new pajamas from Old Navy with prints like snowflakes or Superman. We will feast on something with white gravy or chocolate sauce, and soak in our brandnewness. I almost can’t handle that day already, but it’s all I want. It’s what we need.

Roger’s Village
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They Said “No”

Read this first… https://teresaforesteradams.com/2019/07/30/hometown-love/

I finally have a decision from the Appellate Tax Board in Boston. They believe that the boys and I do not qualify for immediate tax benefits for Massachusetts, and that we should wait until we reach resident status. I received the letter today instead of yesterday, probably because it was Veterans Day and mail didn’t run, and that would have extra sucked. Either way, I peeled apart the five pages to find a decision within the thick paragraphs.

I was nervous. I didn’t realize how much I still had hope the decision would be in our favor. As I searched, I imagined the floors I would have fixed, a new back door for the basement, and the cards I would send to people who have worked hard on this to thank them. I feel silly about that now, but it was fun for a few seconds. After some serious dissection of fancy words, I found this:

“The Board conveys nothing but respect for Mr. Adams, his service for this country, and his death in the line of duty, and it acknowledges the profound loss suffered by Mrs. Adams and their four children.” (I wonder if you can guess the next word.)

Ding ding ding! “But…” In a nutshell, we simply don’t qualify as true Southampton townspeople. It’s the law, and the town spotted it. I don’t hate living in a town that has my back like that, I suppose. It still made me sad, but I need to get over it.

I’m not mad (Except the part where they say we came here to go to school. Um, no). People were doing what they really thought was right, and the way it’s worded, they are absolutely correct. Even though our heart is here, Roger didn’t enlist in Massachusetts, and we lingered too long in North Carolina after he died. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I was so confused, and still am, ten years later. And that is why nobody should have to deal with this ever again. We’ll start with Southampton and continue infinitely.

Here’s the deal…It’ll be on the ballot next election. The people of Southampton decided to put it on. I am thrilled! It means that any veteran from ANYWHERE can receive their town benefits, and instead of waiting two years, they will only wait one. Huge!!!! It was cool to be present for that meeting, and even the boys were able to vote (Max’s first time). It was just special. Please, talk to your friends about this at voting time. Here’s what I said at the town meeting. It may explain what’s going on with the law: https://teresaforesteradams.com/2019/11/12/southampton-town-meeting/

I wish there were more ways to thank people. I’m usually good with words, but people have been the best support, even shaking me when I want to quit this quest for the next military connected families who may have to deal with this. There’s love and patriotism that feels warm. It’s like a soft blanket. Anyway, thank you. The boys and I feel welcome here anyway, because it’s home, and you all have made us feel safe and loved.