Courtesy of the author
As my children and I discussed our impending move, I revisited the question they had asked me often over the years — "How do people end up homeless?"
My typical response usually involved some explanation of addiction, mental health struggles, and lack of resources or family. But life as a single mom in 2024 had me realizing these weren't the only roads to homelessness. "We will not end up homeless right now because we have Nan and Pop, and you have Dad's house, too, but not everyone has a family to rely on. And if we didn't, I would not have any other options." And that is the truth. I don't have the salary, savings, or credit score to secure a home in this market.
"This is how people become homeless," I said. I wanted my kids to know our new setup was not one to take for granted.
The search for our new setup began when my landlord announced his plans to sell the house I had been renting; he needed us to move out in 30 days or less.
For six years, I had been renting a charming three-bedroom home at a fixed rental rate of $1,700 a month. While the payment itself was indeed hard to meet as a one-income family, I always found a way.
With a notice to vacate, I faced the housing crisis. Rentals in our town were limited, and monthly rates had skyrocketed. I was looking at downsizing to a two-bedroom condo or apartment for almost twice the rent. Whereas I had grown resourceful and creative when it came to stretching my salary over the years, there was simply no way to pull an extra $1,000 a month out of thin air.
After an unsuccessful search for rentals and with the clock ticking, I found a small apartment on-site at a local hotel outside the town we had been living in. Of course, it was only a temporary solution, but I was more than grateful to have found it.
And this was our only option — at least the only one that didn't involve moving in with family (an invitation that my parents generously offered).
Still, I understood that my kids might be less than thrilled to move out of the only hometown they ever knew. I was not surprised when they rolled their eyes and sighed at the thought of downsizing to a two-bedroom. And as true teenagers, they were a little concerned with what others would think of our non-conventional housing. "I am turning off my Snapmap whenever we are there," one of them quipped.
Courtesy of the author
I felt defeated and a bit like a failure, but I also felt grateful and proud of my persistence, creativity, and resourcefulness. Faced with nowhere to go, I didn't give up. I spent every day searching, praying, and believing that we would indeed find a place to lay our heads at night. When I finally found our temporary hotel abode, I understood my children's embarrassment at the unorthodox arrangement, but I knew that we had to remain grateful. We were indeed among the lucky ones in this tough housing market.
"This is how people become homeless," I said, unsure if my children were getting the message. I do know that although they were more than sad to say goodbye to our beloved home, the neighbors, and our ideal location, my kids were also excited by the adventure of hotel life. And I know that what they did learn is that home isn't about how many bedrooms you have, what street you live on, or what's in your closet.
Courtesy of the author
We are in our new, minimalist, smaller apartment and it is, indeed, our home — even if only for a short while. We take early morning trips to the breakfast buffet and make late-night S'mores at the firepit. We pop into the hotel restaurant for trivia every Thursday night (where we are better known as the Buckaroos) and have the time of our lives. We play ping pong and pool on the weekends and enjoy family sweat sessions in the sauna, and yes, we are well aware that we are, indeed, blessed.
I can hear the excitement of what we are doing in my kids' voices when they say things like, "I can't wait to see what it is like during the winter here." But I also know they know this is not forever.
I don't know when we are moving out exactly and I certainly don't know where we are going (or how I am affording it). At times, yes, I get scared about what's next, but I know that wherever we end up, we will make it a home.
