Today, instead of packing, I wrote this letter:

Please be informed that the Trustee’s Sale of ________________DID NOT OCCUR. Present at the appointed time and place was the borrower. Please contact the borrowers immediately to discuss this matter before the borrowers turn the matter over to an attorney.

I made three copies. Tomorrow, I will fax this to the Trustee, the servicer, and the asserted buyer. Then, I will send the same letter, certified mail, to all three. Then, I’ll get packing … and continue writing.

Paul’s skipper lives in the Kenai peninsula for part of the year and Kuai the other part. His wife called me to let me know about all the amenities in Kenai. Both the skipper and his wife are gracious, inviting people — kindred spirits. It makes the Alaskan winters not feel so daunting if I can picture friends around a fireplace. There’s also a four-bedroom apartment that might be available and there is work for Paul until October. There are no teaching positions available in Paul’s certifications. No part-time positions available for me, either. Subbing doesn’t pay as well there as it does here. But teaching offers almost twice as much, if they accept the payscale step that Paul is on.

After refusing a full-time position here, I realize that I should be eager to go wherever Paul can find work. And I am. Alaska looks brighter and better since I rejected full-time work. I’m ready to go. I’m officially detached from all encumberances — other than the house — which seems only a matter of time. The animals are gone. The job opportunities are disappearing. The friends and family are gearing up for a goodbye. I informed Lloyd, Elsa’s tennis coach, of my decision about the job. He was surprised, but understanding. Perhaps after coaching all my daughters and enjoying the fruits of their coachability and work-ethic, he respects my mothering abilities — and he understands that it is not the work of a fly-by-night approach that they just pick up, but it is a conscious effort, a careful practicing, an art. I am thankful for those who refuse to judge me and give the art of homemaking and mothering its proper credit.

But all this talk about mothering, and today is Father’s Day. I texted Paul and Rich and wished them good wishes out on the Nak-Nek River. I also called my dad to thank him for raising me and caring for me, and continuing to do so. With Paul gone, he’s stepped back into his fatherly role and has helped me immensely through these trying times. Thank you, Dad!

And to all fathers, many who are amazing, but if they are even there have done a great deal already. With the fatherless children increasing in exponential numbers, cheers to dads who show up day after day. You can’t realize how important you are, what feelings of security and protection you bring to hearts, how much you are admired and imitated and adored, how much you are needed, how much you are loved, how you are longed for and sought after. Your loving presence is the pinnacle of stability in families and your lack thereof is its downfall. You are desperately needed. And though we women are often afraid to depend, to trust, to follow — we desperately, desperately need you. Don’t leave. Don’t look elsewhere. Fear not. Stand firm. Be present.

You deserve the deepest reverence. Thank you.

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