A Rough Landing
We closed the doors on the little white house on Cooksville Road and only took a small glance in the rearview. Life ahead looked exciting, adventure full, and new. Although we did send each other dubious glances as we left h o m e behind and began our journey, for the journey was bursting with copious amounts of the unknown. We did not have a home to go to in California, so we were just hoping we would have a place to land when we got there. We were taking two small boys away from everything they ever knew and loved and going to plunk them smack dab in the middle of a very big city. No more trucks, tractors, chickens, cows, and ranger rides. Sigh. Cry. Move on.
The end of June is a delightful time to travel through the West. Oh my. I have been debating whether or not I shall expound on the beautyyyy. But how can I not? We decided to go eight hours out of our way in order to go through Hardin, Montana. (Tim+Allie, you know.) Very worth our time, I’ll say. Everywhere my eyes roamed was green, green, green. The hills practically sang of late spring. Wildflowers blanketed the knolls with sunny yellow, rosy pink, and enchanting purple. Sunflowers nodded in bunches along barbed wire fences. Round, black cows and fascinating antelopes grazed serenely under blue, blue skies. The clearest streams gurgled happily along, winding their way down from the mountaintops. And the mountain’s grandeur watched the world below. How unfortunate that there are lands where mountains and brooklets and clear mountain air don’t exist.
Three thousand six hundred miles later, on July five, we found ourselves crossing the California line. We stopped for supper and some groceries. My fortune cookie at Panda Express read, “You will take an inspirational journey to a faraway place.” Fitting. We arrived at our Air B&B with just enough daylight left to unload our U-Haul. I nervously glanced around at the houses crowding us on both sides and tried not to notice how unkept and dumpy some of them were. I got the boys inside and began exploring while Brent unloaded the U-Haul. We had booked this place for a month. Right off things seemed fairly nice, and I began settling in. I put all our groceries in the fridge, unpacked Elliot’s toys in hopes of making him feel more secure, made up floor beds for the boys, and unpacked clothes. Then I began a more extensive search of the place. I soon realized that this place was not set up for guests. Not even close. And especially not for guests who planned to stay for a month. But I quickly reassured myself that we could go buy washcloths, hand towels, bedding, etc. So not a huge deal. Yet. Upstairs held all the bedrooms and I had noticed as I was unpacking that it seemed very hot up there. I looked into the air conditioner situation and found it to be out of order upstairs. So, no air conditioning upstairs, and it was 107° outside. A problem. I also discovered a couple of locked doors downstairs. Hmmm.
Brent began messaging with the Air B&B host. Oh yes, he knew the air conditioner was not working but he could get us some fans. And there were washcloths under the kitchen sink. Under the kitchen sink? Odd. But little did he know, I had already found what he called “washcloths” under the kitchen sink and had quickly decided I would much rather shower without a rag. The rags, I think were once white.…? But they were fighting a bad case of black mold. I was tempted to throw them away but found the kitchen trash can full of trash. Meanwhile, our host messaged back and said he just was not set up for guests yet and we should probably find another place to stay. Insane. I began to allow my mind to run wild as I sat on the unwelcoming couch soothing one tired and crying child while trying to keep another from turning on the TV, dumping the hot wax melts, or hauling the host’s décor out to the U-Haul. I imagined our angry host coming into the house, for he surely had a key, and turning us out into the dangerous streets. Or maybe we would have to sleep in our car. Or perhaps load everything back into the U-Haul and go in search of a motel. This last idea seemed the most logical. So, I frantically began packing the entire place back up. Meanwhile, I heard Brent on the phone with Lester. Our field secretary. Once I had everything packed up and sitting by the front door, I learned that Lester and Brent had decided we’d better just tough it out in this place for the night as it was getting really late. Our host agreed to let us stay until morning. Awww what a kind soul. We unpacked everything again.
We sweated the night away. No fans. Not even a ceiling fan. We were very glad to see the light of day. Thankfully it had cooled down to around 65° during the night and morning found us in brighter spirits.
Brent and I began packing everything up again. Elliot was very confused. Was this all his new life consisted of? Packing and unpacking? I mean, that is all his Mama had done for the past couple of months.
As I was packing, I began smelling weed. It got very strong, and I hollered to Brent who was packing the U-Haul outside to see if he smelled anything. No weed smell outside. Only in the house. Weird.
After we’d left that place and headed to the next Air B&B, we found a note on our host’s Air B&B listing that said we were to leave access to the garage because the owner had a private suite downstairs that he stayed in. The weed smell explained. Also, the locked doors. Brent then told me he had noticed that morning that the air conditioner was not set like he remembered setting it the night before. And right before we hopped in bed I told Brent I was pretty sure there was a car in our driveway, and I heard a horn honk. But we had decided it was just the neighbors.
A very creepy, crawling feeling came over me as I realized that that man was in the house with us all night. He even had the audacity to come into the main house where we were staying and mess with the air conditioner during the night. That was him I heard pulling into the driveway as we were going to bed. And that was him smoking weed in his private suite as we were packing up our stuff. Days later, as we were talking to real estate agents and different locals, we learned that the area that Air B&B was in was not considered a safe place at all. It’s known for drugs and such. So, I thank the Lord for protecting us and sending us on our way.
On to better stays we go. 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻
We drove around all day with our ragged U-Haul bouncing behind us. We could not check into our next Air B&B until four o’clock, so we spent the day looking for a permanent house and familiarizing ourselves with the area.
Thankfully the next place we found ourselves unloading a U-Haul at had a totally different feel. It was a lovely place. Fully stocked with everything we would possibly need for our stay, and clean as could be. We felt safe. The neighborhood was very nice. And this was going to be home for a month.
