A Roof Of Our Own: (Memoirs of a Teenage Author)

(This is post #12 of the My Journey to Gritty: Memoirs of a Teenage Author series)


The movers we hired took one look at The Hill, and they immediately expressed that they wanted us to sign a release form before taking our newly acquired trailers down it. They wanted to make sure that if anything went wrong, we wouldn’t sue them for damages.
That was rather nerve-wracking, but not totally unexpected.
Angel hands must have protected the rickety buildings. Part of the roof flew off one of the rooms, but by and large the trailers made it onto The Land.

It was wonderful, walking on real floors, opening and shutting real doors. We didn’t have electricity or running water yet, but at least raccoons couldn’t get into our food storage anymore. And we hooked up the toilet so that we could haul in buckets of creek water and flush it with that.
Lastly, we could finally move most of our stuff out of my grandparents’ garage and into our own home.
Or rather… homes.
It was hard to know what to call our new abode. The single-wide trailers were slightly offset from each other and connected by a makeshift covered walkway. I smiled as I watched Dad nail the walkway together. The nails poked through the roof and made spikes on the ceiling. It wasn’t a problem for us short people, but I was still getting tidbits of knowledge about my future husband. I knew he was a big boy. Hopefully he wouldn’t have a hard time getting through the “Tunnel of Death”.

My writing was really taking off at this point. Every chance I got, I was writing like mad in my notebooks. While lunch was cooking on the firepit outside, I was sitting beside it. Supposedly cooking, actually only glancing up every once in a while to make sure it wasn’t burning too badly.
At night, I’d write by candlelight, squinting at the letters I couldn’t see, praying I’d be able to read them in the morning. Sometimes I’d be griped at by my parents for falling asleep sitting up because of the fire hazard, or I'd get warned that I was ruining my eyes. Turns out, they were right about that. I have to wear glasses now…

My seventeenth birthday came and my little brother gave me his partially broken laptop. That seriously helped my writing endeavors. Even though we still didn’t have electricity, I could hook that laptop up to my car’s battery and it would work for a couple hours every night.
 Yeah… things were looking up and up. Life was starting to feel pretty good.
Then I got the divine word I was waiting for.
I looked at my calendar and saw that Sukkot was coming up.
Sukkot is a week-long camping festival in the Bible (Leviticus 23:33-43) that comes around every autumn. The church we were attending was planning a big camp-out together in honor of the festival, and they paid for us to join them.
“You’re going to meet him there,” the Spirit whispered to me as I calculated the days until Sukkot.
I felt speechless with delight, and circled the date on my calendar.
My husband... I was finally going to meet him! How exciting!
My hopes were high for having the best Sukkot ever.

Click here to read the next post in this series: Sukkot

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