The Summer We Lived in a Tent

The Summer We Lived in a Tent

By Laura Costea

Kelly Baker didn’t know that when she said “Yes” to the house, she was also saying yes to being homeless that summer.

Well, not homeless in the truest sense of the word. But when you couldn’t sleep, shower or cook in your house, what were you supposed to call it?

When Jake had gone to the house inspection, he’d donned his ball cap and faded jeans, looking every bit the HGTV-professional. When he’d come home and said, “It’s great,” Kelly had believed him. “The kids will love the yard,” he’d assured her.

Kelly looked at the pictures online every day and yes, she could picture the kids playing on the backyard swing set. She could see her chickens roosting in the shady corner of the yard. With a whole acre to play on, she started mapping out what her garden would look like.

The pictures of the inside didn’t delight her as much. It looked like the 70’s had had their last big blowout party in the dining room. Puke-green walls, and dingy brown wallpaper around the top? Yikes.

But Kelly knew the drill. She’d move through the house, one room at a time, making each room her own. She could easily pull down wallpaper and re-paint while they were living in it. She’d done it before in their previous old house – while pregnant, no less.

But the walls might have to wait a little while, because the garden – oh, the garden. The previous owners had planted morning glories, irises, lilacs and honeysuckle. But Kelly would grow food – lots of food, to feed her growing family. With four elementary-age children and one on the way, her grocery budget was stretched to the limit. She’d always wanted to grow her own food; now, she’d finally have the chance. She located her seeds, trowel and gardening gloves and made sure to label the box properly. As soon as they moved in, she’d start digging up flowers and making room for vegetables.  

“Mommy – what day are we moving?” Kelly looked up from the box she was packing to see little Anna, clinging to her stuffed bear. The one she’d insisted wouldn’t like the inside of a dark box.

“Thursday, Sweetie.” Kelly wanted to give her daughter more of her time, but there were too many things to pack, and only three days left to do it all.

Then the day finally came. Kelly kissed Jake goodbye and started the eight-hour journey to their new home. Jake would stay behind in Oregon and work in their old city until he could find a job in the new one. Kelly would attend the final walk-through and sign closing papers.

Eight hours and four potty-stops later, Kelly and the kids finally arrived at the small white house. Thirty-eight doesn’t feel quite like twenty-eight, she thought as she dragged her weary body from behind the steering wheel. “Ok, kids… let’s go see this house Daddy picked out for us.”

Her oldest, Lucy, dutifully picked up her purse for her as Kelly turned to lift the toddler from the backseat. She carried him on one hip as she waved to the realtor with the other hand. “See, Miss Rose is waiting for us.”

“Hi, y’all, you made it. Come in, come in!” Rose stood on the back step of the house and ushered them in.

Kelly stepped over the threshhold – then promptly backed out. “What – what happened?” She asked, horrified.

“What do you mean?”

“That smell – was there a fire?”

“Oh. That’s the smoke damage. Didn’t Jake tell you?”

“Smoke damage?” So that was why Rose had a mask over her face.

Rose looked down at the clipboard she held in one hand and motioned Kelly to come in with the other. But Kelly’s feet stood rooted to her spot as if held by cement. Smoke damage. It couldn’t be true.

Rose saw Kelly’s hesitation. “Kelly, they were chain smokers. The couple who lived here for the last thirty years. I’m so sorry, I thought Jake had told you.”

Kelly took a deep breath and followed Rose into the kitchen. Her eyes stung, partly from the smell, and partly from her tears. She shifted the baby on her hip as Rose led her through the house, pointing out the various rooms and fixtures. Her heart caught in her throat and made it difficult for her to speak. Until Lucy coughed.

Lucy’s asthma. She wouldn’t be able to stand living in a place like this.

“I’m sorry – we need to step outside for a minute.” Kelly found her voice and interrupted Rose mid-dining room. Without waiting for an answer, she hustled Lucy and the others out to the front porch. “Honey, are you ok?” She whispered close to her daughter’s ear.

“Yeah – but Mom – I can’t breathe in there.” Lucy’s voice was muffled as even outside, she hadn’t yet removed the hand that covered her mouth.

“I know. We’ll figure something out.” Kelly breathed a long breath of fresh air.

***

Later that night, “figuring something out,” meant voices raising over the phone between her and Jake as she paced the floor of the hotel. The smell wasn’t that bad, he said. You’ve lost your sense of smell due to years of working around chemicals, she reminded him. Why hadn’t Rose told her how bad it was? Or maybe she had, and Kelly had been too excited to listen.

No amount of back and forth could change the situation now. This was the house they’d chosen. And closing day was tomorrow.

“What are you going to do?” Jake finally asked when she’d worn a path in the rug with her pacing.

“I don’t know.” She sank onto the bed, defeated, grateful the kids couldn’t hear her over the TV in the next room. “I mean, Idaho is so new to them. They cried when we drove away from our neighborhood this morning… And they’ve been looking forward to this house for months. You should’ve seen them on the swings, Jake, and climbing the big pine tree. It’s like they’ve already made it home. It’s the only place they know here.”

She could protest, tell the realtor the house wasn’t livable, maybe even back out of the deal. But she couldn’t take the idea of home away from her children. “We have to live somewhere,” she said into the phone.

Jake didn’t speak, just listened, letting her process out loud.

After a beat, Jake spoke. “Remember how you prayed a while ago that we’d have more chances to take the kids camping this summer?”

“Unh-huh.”

“How warm is it there?”

“Warm.”

He paused a moment, and she could tell by the distraction in his tone that he was looking something up when he spoke next. “There’s a sporting goods store just about ten miles from the house. What if you go there tomorrow after closing, pick up a tent and some sleeping bags? I’ll send you a list. You guys can camp in the backyard while we figure this out. I’ll get a work crew over there to clean, paint and stuff. You just take care of yourself and the kids.”

She closed her eyes in defeat. But behind closed lids, she could picture the sun filtering down through the trees in the yard. She could hear her children laughing, running laps among the flowers. She could smell the honeysuckle that grew in the arbor between one garden and the next.

When she opened her eyes, she did so with hope. Her one-word answer to Jake, “Ok,” told him everything he needed to know. “Ok” from Kelly meant that this would be the best first camping experience any family had ever had.

***

“Mom, what’s for breakfast?”

Kelly sighed and rolled over in her sleeping bag. Early. Too early. When Emma asked again, Kelly mumbled, “Food. Something edible.” She crawled out of the tent and placed her feet on the brand-new welcome mat she’d purchased. She hadn’t been able to resist it the other day at the sporting goods store. The straw-colored mat had the word “Idahome” scrawled across it - a moniker for making home in Idaho. And that’s what this place was. Home. She spread her bare feet across the mat and stretched, now ready to greet the day like the so many birds that sang above her.

“Mommy, is Daddy still coming today?” Little Liam looked up at her with his soft brown eyes. Chocolate, she called them.

“Yes, son. He is. Now let’s make some breakfast for this family of ours.” She zipped up the tent so the still-sleeping Lucy wouldn’t be wakened by the sounds of toddlers on the trampoline. Then ambled down the cobblestone garden path and under the arbor, stopping to lift a sweet honeysuckle vine to her face and sniff. She held Liam’s hand until she made it to the table on the back porch; that back porch where she’d first met Rose and entered her new kitchen. “I’ll make your eggs in a minute, son. But first, coffee.” 

Kelly set her water to boil over her outdoor camping stove, then pulled Jake’s flannel shirt a little tighter around her – mornings were still cool here in Idaho. She sat down to wait for the water to boil with her journal and pen. Keeping a diary was akin to keeping her sanity, she’d told more than one fellow mother.

July 19, 2022. We’re one week into camping in the backyard. And cooking outside. And showering at the gym. And watching workers traipse in and out of the house that was supposed to be move-in ready.  

And watching the stars come out at night. Goodness, the sky was always so overcast in Oregon, I’d forgotten what a sky full of stars can look like. And playing games on the picnic table while we wait for the sun to go down. And taking adventures around town together, with no work to rush home to. I can’t unpack the boxes because I can’t work inside the house. The chemically-cleaning smell is too much for me; and besides, the kids would be sure to upset whatever cleaning and painting this hardworking team is getting done.

Every time we’ve moved, all I wanted to do was set up the house. Organize our belongings, help the kids settle in their new rooms, set up my kitchen. In a way, I was more focused on things. Always looking down, opening boxes, moving things about.  

Not being able to unpack and set up the house has forced me to look up. At the beautiful sky we have here, at the mountains that surround us, at the sight of my children climbing in their new tree house. My hands are tied, and it frustrated me at first, but it’s reminded me what this move was really about. It was about our family. It was about being together. It was about doing things differently from the rest of the world, looking out for our kids’ future, carving out our own story.

In fact, this time has been so special. I think I’ll institute a new family tradition. We’ll camp in the backyard for a week every summer, and remember the time when we turned a troubling situation into something fun. What would Jane Austen say? Swings and roundabouts.

Water steamed through the lid of her saucepan. Before Kelly stood to pour it over her presspot of coffee, she wrote one last line:

It’s not what I expected. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.