My Little House on a Slab

Once upon a time, I was a married lady.
We had moved to Indiana from Illinois so that my then-husband could fill an administrative position in a school district in Cloverdale, IN.
We started out in a rental house, then bought a nice home in the community, but everything soon went awry when his eye turned away from me and to his school secretary.
I filed for divorce.

I had not been an Indiana resident long enough to know where to go or what to do.  Guided by a colleague, Phyllis, I set my eyes on Plainfield, and rented part of what is called a "double" in Indiana but the rest of the world calls a "duplex".  It was big enough for my daughter and me, but it wasn't mine.

In the divorce, I had willingly given up the Cloverdale home because I had no desire to stay in the community and could not have afforded the house by myself, but a huge part of my heart said that our child should not have to suffer in a rented duplex while her father had the luxury of a house with 2,000 square feet of living space.

The owner of the duplex was a real estate agent who had faith in me as an educator.  After about seven months, I began to wonder if there wasn't someplace I could buy.  I called and talked to her.  I asked if she could find a house for me and my daughter, and if she would be willing to let me break the lease for a sale.  She was willing.  She directed me to a couple of homes in the Hillcrest subdivision--both of which had similar floor plans.  One had a half-bath that the other didn't have, and a covered patio, both of which were a big draw for me.  Although it didn't have central air conditioning, I figured I could always add AC but that it would be far too expensive to add another bathroom...so I went for the one with the extra half-bath.  The gal directed me about how to put in an offer, and the rest is history.  I will never forget her saying, "Peg, this is the only house you will ever need."  I think there were times when both Meg and I wished we had more space, but the gal was right.  We managed.

I needed a downpayment, and the kind of loan available to me required that the downpayment be a gift rather than a loan.  I approached my father.  Dad really, really wanted me to move back to the farm in Illinois.  He agreed to give me the money, saying only, "I suppose this means you'll become a Hoosier"...and he spat out the Hoosier word as if it were a curse.  In spite of that, he didn't even blink about giving me $5,000 to put down on my little house-on-a-slab.  Since the house was all on one level, I just knew that I would move him in with me when the time came.  It didn't happen...

We moved in at the end of March of 1992.  As soon as summer came, I contracted to have central air put in and taught summer school to help pay for it.  Over the years of living in the little house, things went wrong.  (They usually do!)   I always, always had one or more friends who helped fix things.  I almost lost the house once to foreclosure when stupid things happened.  All I could do was contact the mortgage company and beg for forbearance. It worked, but for almost a year, I was making close to double house payments just to catch up.  It was a horrible time.  I lost a lot of sleep over this but saved my house!

This tiny little house was more than just a place for us to live.  It became the roots that I never had as a kid...the roots that I really wanted my own child to have after several home moves that had her unnerved.   After the year 2000, she was old enough to begin to test her wings to move on.  She married and had children and left my nest.  I dug in.  I wore out a couple of cars driving to where she was at any given time, thinking I could help, while always maintaining a place for us to be.

Along about 2007, my daughter left her husband and moved in with me, with the children.  I didn't know it was coming.  Had no clue.  (Neither did he.)  But I did everything I could do to make my little house a home for them.  We remodeled the house to create bedrooms for us all.  She provided most of the funds through school grants, etc.  It worked until she fell in love with a foreign student out of Indiana State University.  She gave up custody of the children to their father in a horrible way, and followed the student to California.  I was devastated, but I still had my little home that had housed us all.  In time, all of that changed again.   They moved back to the Midwest as husband and wife, then regained custody of the children through some not great circumstances, and things settled down.

Through it all, I've still been in my little house.  Since I bought the house, I've done everything I could to keep it, in spite of lack of funds, made somewhat worse when I retired in 2009.
Then yesterday, in talking to a rep from the mortgage bank, I found out that there is such a thing as "netting the escrow".  That means that there is more money in escrow than the balance on the account.  I learned that I could direct the bank to pay off the mortgage with the escrow money, seven months early...which I did today.  Thus, after 26 years of struggle, I am suddenly to be the owner, free and clear, of my tiny little house on a slab of concrete.  Am I happy about that?  You betcha!

Although I am patting myself on the back a lot, I am soooo grateful for all of the people who helped me get through, starting with my father's gift back in 1992.  All that I have, I've been gifted.  Except for the stubbornness to push on, which came from my mother and grandmother.  (I guess those are gifts, too!)  Until I have the papers in my hand that say that my mortgage is paid in full, I'll hold my breath, but they're coming.  Praise God, they're coming!  And praise God for sticking with me all these years!