For about two years now I have been reading about tiny houses. I want one soooo badly. My siblings(3) and I grew up in a 32′ travel trailer. The freedom of that house on wheels. You couldn’t have very many possessions but you were rich in experiences. It was a great way to grow up, unfettered and free.
I can remember my dad getting up of a morning and announcing we were moving. Everybody would get excited, scurrying around to pick up toys and bikes and getting them stored in the back of the carry-all so they wouldn’t get left behind. We’d all pile into the seat of my dad’s pride and joy, a Chevy carry-all, and away we’d go singing “The Bear Went Over the Mountain.” My dad would be grinning, my mother would laugh at the silliest things, and us kids would play the alphabet game reading all the billboards. Those were happy days!
I don’t buy into the popular myth of whoever ends up with the most toys wins. To my way of thinking that is LOSING. Living life, not being a slave to modern conventions, now that is living. All those things everyone is buying don’t make me happy. Sunrises on a beach, walks among desert rocks, swimming in a clear lake: those are the things that make me happy.
Anyway, tiny houses are all over the internet now. I want to buy an old travel trailer (very small) and gut the inside and make my own tiny house. I want to visit every national park and seashore in this country. It would be the best way to live out the rest of my life, the way I began it, in a house on wheels meeting life with a smile on my face.