Chapter 3
Refuge the Airbnb Life
Six months of living out of suitcases, each Airbnb a fleeting pause in their journey, have taken their toll. The constant movement, the lack of permanence, the gnawing insecurity – it all wears thin. Just as despair begins to settle in, a flicker of hope ignites. Through a stroke of luck or divine intervention, they secure a more stable, albeit still temporary, shelter. It's not a permanent home, but it's a place where they can finally unpack their bags, both literally and metaphorically. The air in this new space is different; it carries a sense of respite, a fragile peace that allows them to breathe a little easier, a much-needed reprieve from the relentless storm.
The pandemic had tightened its grip, making every step forward a battle. Finding a place to live, even temporarily, proved to be an insurmountable challenge. Hotels were booked, apartments impossible to secure; no one was moving out of their homes because of the pandemic. The hope that had propelled them forward began to dwindle, replaced by a gnawing fear. Airbnb was their glimmer of hope, they found light living in Airbnb's for the next six months.
Their first Airbnb was a townhome with two bedrooms and two baths in Lake Arrowhead, located at an elevation of 5,130 feet. It was clean, it was safe, but it was a far cry from home. The silence here was different, more profound, punctuated by the distant wail of sirens and the rustle of unfamiliar sounds outside the window. On the same day they arrived, they saw two raccoons outside. Their stay was three days and two nights, but they never ventured outside after sunset. At this location, the trees were many, standing 50-100 feet tall, and there were signs that read: "Beware of Bears."
La Shele found herself waking in the middle of the night, her heart pounding, convinced she heard Tyon’s laughter, only to be met by the oppressive quietness. Kae Keonna, usually so vibrant, kept her children busy and on the go, taking them to stores or door-dashing, anything to keep her eyes from welling up with tears if she sat in one spot too long. Malik would call and check in often, requesting all the pictures he could get and asking what was for dinner every night, his voice filled with laughter, keeping a smile lit up on everyone’s faces as he knew the move, the journey, and the struggles that weren't easy during these times. Chacobe, ever the rock, tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, his efforts to cook comforting meals and engage them in conversation a testament to his unwavering love and support. He also purchased spiritual coloring books for him and La Shele for uplifting and keeping the faith and prayers alive. Cynthia stayed close to her daughter, granddaughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren, but tended to stay upstairs the majority of the stay because her bad knee did not allow her to travel down the stairs often. She was so touched, hurt, and emotional, hiding it all inside while continuously thinking of the tragic death of her grandson. But each day she managed to stay strong while around others, taking it one day at a time, showing off her strength and warmest heart with helping hands, shedding her love abundantly with her shimmering smile.
The days led into weeks, and the weeks into months. Each Airbnb was more than 30 locations by now, and a temporary reprieve, a fleeting moment of shelter before the inevitable move. They learned to pack and unpack with a practiced efficiency, their lives reduced to the contents of a few suitcases, an ice chest, and boxes. The constant flux was exhausting, a relentless cycle of uncertainty. La Shele found herself scrutinizing every new place, her senses on high alert, searching for a flicker of permanence, a hint of home. But each door they opened led to another temporary space, another transient existence. The pandemic had created a world where stability was a luxury few could afford, and they were living proof. The Airbnb locations: Palm Desert, Palm Springs, Indio, Joshua Tree, La Quinta, Crestline, 29 Palms, Indian Wells, Coachchella, Desert Hot Springs, and San Diego. They were all beautiful homes, luxurious homes, majority had swimming pools, which were awesome for the children during the summer months. These homes received five star ratings. This family also received five star ratings with great reviews making it easy for them to relocate meeting new host over the months.
Six months of living out of suitcases, each Airbnb a fleeting pause in their journey, had taken its toll. The constant movement, the lack of permanence, the gnawing insecurity – it all wore thin. La Shele watched her family, their faces etched with a weariness that went beyond mere physical exhaustion. Kae Keonna, usually so vibrant, her laughter a familiar melody in their lives, seemed muted, her eyes holding a shadow of the constant upheaval. Malik, the youngest, the one who always brought life to any room with his infectious energy, was subdued, his playful spirit dimmed by the lack of a stable foundation for his family, being locked away in prison didn't help, it saddened him deeply. Chacobe, La Shele's husband her rock, her steadfast companion, wore a quiet worry on his brow, his unspoken anxieties a mirror to her own.
The pandemic had cast a long, unforgiving shadow, and their personal tragedy had only amplified its reach. Each sunrise brought with it the same question: where would they sleep tonight? Where would they find a semblance of normalcy in a world that felt perpetually on edge? The sterile anonymity of Airbnb after Airbnb had become a cruel joke, a revolving door of temporary shelters that offered no true solace. They were adrift, a family bound by love but buffeted by circumstance, their dreams of a new beginning in California dissolving into a hazy, uncertain present. The faith of God kept this family happy together and quick moving on their feet. The grandchildren enjoyed each home, majority of them was filled with games, toys and video games.
The accumulated weight of it all pressed down on La Shele, a suffocating blanket of fatigue and despair. There were moments, in the quiet of the night, when the enormity of their situation threatened to swallow her whole. The grief for her lost son still a raw wound, now compounded by the daily struggle for survival. She’d find herself staring out of unfamiliar windows, the cityscape a blur of indifference, and a profound sense of helplessness would wash over her. But the constant moving around kept her afloat not full of sadness all the time but trusting in the Lord to make a breakthrough soon. She felt the wilderness traveling slowly behind her, never giving up. The family never thought of returning to Arizona they didn't want to, therefore they continued moving forward.
One particularly dreary afternoon, after a week in an Airbnb one of her grandchildren asked her quietly, "Nana, when can we have a place that feels like *ours* again?" The question, so innocent yet so profound, had pierced La Shele’s heart. She had no answer, only a tightening in her chest and the familiar sting of unshed tears.
It was during this low ebb, when the hope that had fueled their initial journey to California seemed to have all but evaporated, that a sliver of light began to break through the clouds. It wasn't a dramatic revelation, no sudden windfall or miraculous discovery.