You know, this trailer life sometimes makes me long for a house, any house. I never dreamed that there were so many things I took for granted, simply because they’ve existed in my world from birth. Running water, electricity, heat, garbage collection, a real bathroom, a real kitchen (even when I don’t cook), etc., etc.
Please realize that I’m not complaining about this situation. My husband and I made a choice that would be unusual for most people, including us. I’m learning all kinds of work-arounds in this weensy dorm-room-like setting. And then I think about all the folks that don’t have any type of shelter or who have been forced into, well, a corner.
I hope that all of you are reading this from a cozy place that’s somehow all your own. I hope it came move-in ready, and that it’s exactly where you want to be. Perhaps it’s a large house and all the finishes are neutral, or maybe it’s a small, quirky apartment where nothing matches. My point is that you probably have a “place”. I do, too. A trailer is still a shelter, a “place”, somewhere to stay warm and dry and get things done.
What would you do if your “place” was in a tent city — where you’re basically outside all the time, subject to cold, heat, wind, rain, and fear? And what’s next for you when the locality decides the tent city can’t exist anymore and it must be disbanded?
What would you do if you stayed behind during a hurricane or fire, and even if your “place” survived, there was nothing left around you when you stepped outside? No utilities, no way to travel roads because they no longer exist, and no landmarks to find your way?
What would you do if you were deployed to a desert and your “place” might be a nice tent, but it provides no protection from enemy shelling or scorpions? How do you deal with knowing that so many events could occur that might prevent you from seeing your loved ones ever again?
What would you do if you were a refugee? Your “place” is you and you alone.
While you might be thinking that this has nothing to do with my trailer story, it does. There are days when I question “what was I thinking?!” when we decided to do this, assuming in the beginning that it would be short-term. I’ve been so fortunate in my past to have (mostly) comfortable houses; at the very least, I had ways to make them more comfortable. This is nothing different, it’s just tiny. And it could totally be worse.
We all have issues that we face. We all complain about something. We all make choices that don’t end up quite how we wanted them to. My point is that no matter who you are or what kind of day you’re having, find a “place” in your heart to remember how lucky you really are.