Our lease is up, and we have nowhere to go

MY

family has a beautiful apartment. It’s homey and inviting, filled with light, love, and laughter. We’ve lived here a few years, and during that time we hung curtains on the windows and pictures on the walls. We savored the comfort of familiar recipes and the thrill of trying new ones. I made a pareve knife fleishig and a milchig knife treif. We hosted Shabbos seudos and made Yom Tov. We exposed those pale blue walls to layers of whispered prayers and melodies of learning. We turned that apartment into our home.

The only downside is that our lease is nearly up, and we have nowhere to go. We looked at apartments that were too small, too expensive, or too far away. Now we have only a week left to find a new place. My parents have graciously offered their basement in a pinch, but we need our own space and our own things.

Today, I’m packing, organizing pieces of our lives into boxes, still unsure where they will be unpacked. I sip my second coffee as I cycle through the stages of grief like a spinning wheel of a fortune arcade game. I start on the kitchen cabinets. I take out the blender and deliberate on whether I should pack the attachments I never use.