Nomads

Our landlord told us they are selling our house. Although the market is terrible right now, this still means our time here is limited. I am so tired of moving. It seems that we will never buy a house in L.A., but we will never leave the area because we are near family, and they can afford to live here. They are our support system and the boys love them, seeing them several times a week, asking for them when they don't. We get to be here, struggling by default. I want to put down roots, call some place my own, make it a home. I want to paint the walls and put up curtains, and hang pictures. I want to mark the kids' growth on the walls to look back at fondly through the years. I want the kids to meet the neighbor kids and ride bikes together, and fall in love with the girl next door. One day, it would be so nice to look at a picture and have someone say "who's house is that?" and we respond "oh, that's our house. We painted it that color a few years ago. We thought it suited us better." I want the boys to roll their eyes that their mother ever thought taupe or mocha or latte was ever a nice color for a wall. One day when we do move, I want them to get kinda teary eyed because that is the house they grew up in, and it is hard to let go. I don't want someone to ask them "where did you grow up" and have their response be "oh, here and there." I guess there are things about my childhood I would duplicate.