Take the cow out of the house

Last week I drove back to Rhode Island with a carful of people and their belongings, my daughter, Marie, her caretakers/friends and their two children. It was a loooooong drive. As a person who is aversive to driving to our tiny house in New Hampshire, the 22-hour drive was exhausting. We did manage to stay in a hotel one night, which broke the trip up.

We arrived home close to midnight, and everyone plopped down onto a bed or couch and fell into an exhaustive sleep. Waking up the next day, placing a call to the apartment complex was the first thing on the agenda. I had put a down payment and expected them to be able to move right in. Unfortunately, with COVID-19, they had been unable to refurbish the apartment and it would be another week before it was ready for them to move in. In the meantime, my small house was busting at the seams, and it was soooooo noisy. (The general consensus is that people who are deaf are quiet, but it can actually be the opposite. My daughter’s mode of communication includes a great number of squeaks and squawks and loud noises to get my attention.) Add to that the baby, PLUS the two year old, PLUS the outbursts from my son, Steven, who only does well if there is structure, and the house was in chaos.

Hubby was a saint. Every night for 10 days he would cook a large dinner like lasagna or pulled pork for all to eat. After, cooking, he would retreat to the bedroom where his comfy couch and large screen television would convince him that he was alone in the house without a gang taking it over. Of course, he had to play the television loud in order to drown out the sounds outside his bedroom door.

It was a joyful day when the apartment complex called to say they could move in. This family and their meager belongings, (some clothes and a prized crib for the baby,) moved into the apartment. They were so excited, couldn’t believe that they would be living in a place so nice. Even though they had to sleep on the floor with the sleeping bags and pillows I had given them, Ava declared in ASL that it was “like heaven”. She was especially thrilled that there were no bugs, or holes in the floor, or mold on the ceiling. Marie hugged and kissed me repeatedly. It was with a happy heart that I drove away and left them in their new abode.

The next week was spent getting donated furniture and food. As they happily got acquainted with their new living situation, I returned home. It seemed so empty. It reminded me of the Jewish story about a poor man who lived with his wife and six children in a very small, one room house. They were always getting in each other’s way, and the man and his wife argued a lot. He went to his rabbi and told him life couldn’t be worse. The rabbi told him to do exactly what he told him and things would get better. He told the man to bring his animals, a cow, goat and some chickens, into the house with him. The next day, the man went back to the rabbi, complaining about the chaos with all of the animals in the house. The rabbi told him to remove the chickens, which he did. But the next day, the man went back to the rabbi and said that the chickens were gone, but that the goat was smashing all of the furniture and eating everything in sight. The rabbi told him to remove the goat, which he did. The next day the man came back to complain about having the cow in the house, how the whole house smelled like a stable. The rabbi told him to go home and remove the cow, which he did. The next day the man went to the rabbi and told him that all of the animals were out of the house and the house was so quiet and joyful. As much as I love my daughter and her friends, I am similarly joyful that my house is now quiet and peaceful.