If you had asked me two years ago if I ever wanted to own a home, I would have told you no, that I was a gypsy and I had been all my life. See, in my first thirty-six years, I changed residences (or more commonly … moved) twenty-six times … and no, we weren’t military. Dad was in the food business and the food business is like the shoe business. Everybody needs both, so you can always find a job. It just may be half-way across the country. By the time I was five, we had already lived in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Florida, West Virginia and Ohio and by the time I was fourteen we had moved four more times within that state … and then on to South Carolina. To say moving was a routine would be an injustice. We had it down to an art form. In 1999, my marriage turned out to be somewhat less entertaining than I had originally anticipated, so I move into an apartment. There I lived for eight years until a very good friend of mine built his family a home, moved out of the small house where he had been raising his boys and offered to rent me the place for cheap … and I do mean cheap! (I had just lost a job and the apartment manager was less than concerned … except for the fact that I couldn’t pay the rent) If it weren’t for him, I might have found myself on the street or worse, six hundred miles away, living with my sister back in Ohio. During the next nine-plus years, my life experienced nothing less than a transformation as I grew in my faith, found a decent, albeit low-paying job and began writing Mirrored Man. I was convinced that I was meant to be a writer and I poured myself into the task using the talent that God had gifted me with … telling stories. Unfortunately, God hadn’t gifted me with good grammar or punctuation skills so, over the next five years I struggled to (unsuccessfully) improve my work or find someone willing to help me improve it. During that time, the most unlikely of things happened. The hospital where I was managing a service for the company that employed me decided that they like me better than the company and asked me if I wanted to bid on the contract. Of course, being the loyal employee that I was, I declined … until I realized that I was being foolish by not taking advantage of the opportunity that God had placed before me. I was awarded the contract three years later at the next renewal. Yup, I now own my own (very small) business. That was two years ago. It was then that a friend of mine started looking for a house to buy and … yup … you guessed it, I got the itch. Long story short, (yeah right) I closed on my first house on December 18th and moved in the next day … one week before Christmas! (I know, right?)
A gypsy no more … I hope.