Yesterday, on my morning walk, a woman stood waving to her daughter as her daughter’s school bus pulled away. She said hello to me as I approached her driveway and I stopped to tell her how adorable I thought her house was every time I passed it. “Ugh,” she sighed. “Every time I look at it, I think of all the work we need to do.” “Well, you can’t tell that from here,” I said. And as I walked on I thanked God that I decided not to buy a house a few years ago. I want a house to bring me comfort and peace – this woman’s house didn’t seem to provide that for her.
I’m not saying all homeowners feel this way, but in my informal poll I find it’s a dominant thought. There always seems to be something that needs fixing or updating. My friend Lois says, “You don’t own a house. A house owns you.” I wonder if I’d have the same feeling if my house was only 130 square feet? I’m going to start figuring out the answer to that question: On June 17, me and mom are taking a trip out to Ohio to go see a Tumbleweed Tiny House!
“Can I invite your father or is this a girls trip?” my mother asked. “We can invite dad. But only if he promises to not shoot down my idea of living in one of these things,” I replied. I wasn’t sure at that point if this was one of those ideas she was going to ease him into for me, or if I had to do it myself. “He is good at asking questions,” my mom offered. “Yeah, that’s true,” I said. “I’ll just have to bring a bottle of wine.” I handle dad’s driving much better with a glass of wine in my belly.
I was chatting with mom in the office of her house yesterday when we heard dad’s pounding footsteps upstairs. We were looking at the web site for the Tiny Houses and as I heard dad come down to see what we were up to I said to Mom, “Did you tell him yet?” “No,” my mother said. I was in a fabulous mood, so figured I’d throw my idea out to my dad and could handle whatever reaction he had for me. “What are you two doing?” he called to us as he walked down the stairs. My family is one in which you don’t have to be in the same room as a person to have a conversation with them. Or even on the same floor for that matter. “Looking at Tiny Houses,” I said as he peeked into the office. “Oh yeah?” he said as he turned around and went back up the stairs, off to accomplish his next task. The man never sits still. Or stands still for that matter.
“Mom and I are gonna go see one on June 17. Wanna come?” I asked, following him. He looked at me and wrinkled his face into a look of amusement and thought. I could see his brain saying “This sounds just crazy enough to be fun.” “Oh really? You’re gonna go see one. Hm. What day is that?” “A Thursday,” I said. “We drive out on Thursday – but we have to get there by 7 cause that’s when they close, and they don’t open again til 11 on Friday. So we just see it on Thursday and then drive home on Friday.” “So we have to leave early in the morning on Thursday,” he said. My father loves leaving early in the morning. He meets friends for coffee every weekday before most people’s alarm clocks have gone off. “Not too early,” I said. “It’s a seven hour drive. We could leave at 9 and still have plenty of time.” If he was disappointed we’d leave two hours later than he liked, he didn’t show it. “A quick road trip to Ohio,” he pondered. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
So on June 17, I’ll pretend I’m an only child and hop in the car with mom and dad for a quick little trip. Will keep you posted:)