It is July, it is hot and this is not our first shelter, but our third. Well, technically our fourth, but we never got to sleep in the first as they accepted us before realizing they had no rooms available for yet another family in crisis. They were undergoing much needed renovations and had to turn away several families until the renovations were complete. ...my mind wanders back a week or two...

The second shelter had kept us for a few days, but was located across the border in another state which created a legal and paperwork nightmare for them, so they sent us back to where we intended to make our residence, but much farther north.

We had driven to this northern shelter with only our traveling clothes, travel pillows and a few belongings we'd left in our Penske truck. We wound through beautiful lake country on country roads encircled by lush boughery. All above and around us was wildlife, clean forests and beautiful country none of us had ever seen. We felt the history and deep respect for the heritage of this place. It was like stepping back in time. It was a much needed respite from the harsh realities of the challenges we'd encountered so far; a literal and figurative breath of fresh air. They were sending us to the 'mountains' where centuries old ski resorts and farms whose heritage were older than the country we live in peeked out between clumps of hardwood forest that had given in slightly to allow for this intrusion of men into what was once a frontier and now is a sheltered paradise.

We kept close watch for the mountains, anticipating the sight of soaring hawks and eagles, rocky crags and breathtaking heights of mountains jutting up to the sky. Having grown up in Utah and California in the foothills of the Sierras and the great Rocky Mountains, we were excited to behold the wonders of a place like home. We continued traveling through breathtaking forest, occasionally breaking upon the crest of a hill to view miles and miles of hardwood forests and more green rolling hills as far as the eyes could see. We arrived at our destination, apparently increasing altitude the entire trip, but never saw any mountains. The hill country of this land is breathtaking though. We arrive at the small town with chalets and small merchants, excited to see another way of life. We stopped and called for exact directions to the shelter's location and drove a few short miles outside the town to an overlook and small rural community just at the edge of town. We had arrived. It suddenly dawns on us that these forest encrusted and emerald jeweled hills are the 'mountains' we had been told of. I smiled inwardly at the realization.

As always, the smiles were applied, a deep breath taken and we stepped out to face our next adventure... ever aware that if we looked too long in one place or another or stood still for too long, reality may smack us upside the head and pop this beautiful bubble we'd just spent two hours creating. This is an adventure and we were happy to be here, and we'd insist on these thoughts until all else was pushed from our minds. Well honed emotional survival and deflection skills stepped up for the task so we (or I should say "I") don't crumble.

The staff show us to our places and we settle in. They will take me to turn in the Penske truck and then they'll be gone for the weekend. They reiterate that they will be gone for the weekend and the home will be unstaffed so I understand that I'm on my own. It's not usually this way, they say, but it's a major holiday weekend and there's always someone on call if we need them. They show us our rooms, the kitchen, living room, the front storage room with hand-me-down clothes that we can look through to find what we need, the storage closet with food, the pay phone in the stairwell, etc. No one will be in the shelter, they repeat, so I'll have to use the pay phone if help is needed. I thank them and assure them we will be fine until their return. They leave and we are glad just to rest and settle into a safe house in such a beautiful place.

We choose beds and set our small bags of belongings into drawers that are unfamiliar in rooms we have never seen. They are similar rooms to the ones we were in previously. All of us usually crammed into one bedroom with bunk beds to fit more people. Beds, bathrooms, living room with limited videos offered for viewing because shelters will not allow violence or negativity to reach their tenants. A few extra locks on the doors and windows for our protection. The walls do not have pictures of family or the last school portraits, they have posters explaining the cycle of abuse, promoting family closeness and pacifist beliefs, outlining rules of living in someone else's facility, some offering hope in their small snippets of advertising.

I had been directed to a room I'd sleep in by myself. This is new. We are usually in the same room, just different beds. Sleep is a constant struggle for me, so is being alone. The constant vigilance and fight or flight status that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder causes is exhausting, but is still required by my programmed body. Sleep is the one time I cannot control my thoughts and therefore terrifying. All the emotion I stuff down inside during the day creeps up to the surface of my unconscious mind and plays out in my dreams at night. I hear his voice, his heavy footsteps. He's here, he's coming, he's angry and we're not safe! I begin to feel his hands over my mouth, I can't breathe. I hate sleep. I don't want to sleep alone. I want a reason to continue my vigilance. I want to hear the breathing of my children and know they are okay; anything, but having to close my eyes and be pulled back to that place where I am helpless. I look at the lone bed in the room dreading that terror-filled night I will experience if I dare go to sleep.

There on the bed is a green plastic container with sample sized bottles and gifts. A brand new wash cloth, shampoo and conditioner, perfume, lotions, deodorant, toothpaste and new toothbrushes for all of us, etc. At the back of the box there are a few bandages. Bandaids! These are the greatest gift of all... two boys and two girls ages 7-16. They always need Bandaids and we have had none. I share the treasure chest* with the children and they are as thrilled as I am of its contents.

I think to myself, this is how life should be. Simple, quiet, small needs and finding fulfillment in simple things. No need for a huge home and many possessions, emphasis on things in life I feel are most important. Simplistic, accepting, inclusive, loving... It drift for only a moment when I begin to hear kids fussing and wound up tight from being confined in a vehicle and now a house for much too long. We need another adventure!

Dinner! That's always an adventure! One boy is picky, one loves everything before him and will try anything, but usually ends up back at the same few things he likes to eat. The girls are normal teenagers, wanting both the responsibilities of an adult and the relief of being a child with someone else in charge! How great is that? They help me get dinner ready and we all take turns searching through cupboards for plates, silverware, utensils, food we all agree on, having fun while we bring out those things we'd been missing for several days... sitting down to a family meal. I don't remember what it was. It could have been franks and beans, maybe frozen pizza, soup and bread, who knows; but it was the best meal we'd had in several days and therefore, the best meal yet! One of my older sons used to always say that the meal just following a fast is the best meal yet. I'd have to agree.

My mind floods with questions and pain flows through me like a tidal wave. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he okay? Why did he stay and not come with us? I understand why his brother stayed, he's older and attending college. Why did my 17-year-old stay? How can I make sure he's okay when he's so far away. I can't protect him, he's so young. I can't get him to where he needs to be, provide for him. Is he hurting inside? Are they both hurting inside? Too fast, too hard, too dangerous ...hurts too much. I miss them so badly it tears me up inside. I can't think of these things so I hide them quickly away, back on the shelf deep within where I lock away all feelings that are too difficult to look at, touch or feel. Breathe deep... go forward. Look around you. This is your realm. Here and now are the only things you can control and affect just yet. Be here with these children, not somewhere else in pain. I move on...

We're going to enjoy tomorrow, Independence Day, create another adventure. There has to be something going on in town. Our trooper friend is supposed to be calling to pick us up and take us to a fireworks display. What about curfew? What about the distance? We'll work it out somehow. He'll follow through, I'm sure of it. Hurting again, stuff down the tears, back into that dark place that keeps life safe. Breathe...