nostalgia

There is a part of me that has always wanted to live small. Many of the most creative memories of my childhood were accomplished by creating playspaces in unusual locations - closets, nooks, the hollowed interior of overgrown bushes...

I grew up in rural Indiana and the first home I remember having was an old double wide manufactured home. My mother and aunt spent a huge amount of time painting the press board paneling and trim of that room in the Barbie doll pink colors. I was so proud of it, I'm not sure if it was because it was the first time I had my own room or if it was because of the color, but the feeling is still there.

About a mile away from that house was my paternal grandparents farm. When my father was a child it was a horse farm, but by the time I had come around they only kept a few quarter horses for riding and boarded horses for others. Many of my most carefree memories are from that house. They had about 50 acres with a private pond, woods, pastures, two barns a greenhouse and the farmhouse. Both vegetable gardens were bigger than most suburban lots and the greenhouse was a very busy place. There were old apple, pear, walnut and persimmon trees if you knew where to look. Blackberries and mulberries, grapes, asparagus, potatoes and mushrooms each had there own semi-wild places. The flower gardens were also something to see and iris were everywhere.

I go into it because as a mother I'm looking around and thinking, what are my children's early memories going to be? A house in the city in a middling neighborhood in a horrible school district? A yard too small and people drive up and down the alley too fast for me to risk letting them play in the yard that is there? There has to be something better. I have to make something better than this. But how?

I think a tiny home, and more importantly tiny home lifestyle will help me do it. I have to believe that, because we need a change and now is the time.