Dear Tiny House,
For the past 15 months I have poured every spare moment,
dollar, and ounce of emotional energy into you and now; you’re done.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
You still have some trim to attach here and
there, and some sealing and caulking to finish. I still need to install your
composting toilet, and the curtain rods under the countertops keep falling down,
but, you’re done.
I am both elated, and sad.
You see, some people drink or smoke or exercise or find
other means of stress relief. But for me, you’ve
been it. You’ve been my happy place, and given me challenges to conquer and problems
to solve.
There are so many problems in
my world and life that I cannot solve, so, I look excitedly forward to solving
the ones I can.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
Yesterday, even though we couldn’t get your heater to work,
we had Thanksgiving Dinner in your living room. I even made a tiny table just big enough for a turkey dinner for two.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
Last week, we moved you and it was horrible,
and you got stuck, and I cried. It felt
like my child was sick and there was nothing I could do but wait for others to
make you better.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
Two weeks ago, we invited all of my friends to come see you
and welcome you to the world and now they love you as much as I do.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
Last month, I was so happy when your shower was
installed and I got the fender boxes built.
Last Spring, I cried happy tears when I plugged you in for the first time and
your lights came on!
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
I’m not sure that others would be so emotional about their
tiny houses but this ending is so bitter sweet for me. Now that you’re done I need to start putting
my emotional energies towards the “what next” and that’s pretty scary.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
I am happy that you’re finally settled where
you’ll be for (hopefully) a long time but also sad that you’re not parked in my
driveway where I can keep an eye on you.
Just above the doorway to the bathroom there is a spot in
the wall that I have reserved for a time capsule. I am surprised, but nobody
has asked me why the trim was missing, right there.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
Maybe they were being nice and trying not to
point out such an obvious error. Nonetheless, behind that trim piece this letter will be.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
I’ll add a few pictures of your early days, a
few of your building days, and then a few of you now, in all of your glory and
color. I’ll even put in my original
sketches of your design, with the blue tape still attached.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
And, I think I’ll add
a scrap of fabric from your chairs, a small block of barn wood, and maybe a
nail or two.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
Someday, that time capsule will be opened. And, when that day comes I hope you are still
as lovely as you are now. I hope you are
loved, and colorful, and full of life and laughter.
I do not completely know what will become of you. Someday I envision living in you, and then maybe traveling the world, and then returning home to appreciate you even more.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
I
envision enjoying your quiet space as a place for friendships and love to grow.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
I can picture sleep overs, and parties, and sun drenched windows that warm your
very heart. I hope there will always be wine, and giggles, and joy within
these four walls.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
I originally named you My Empty Nest and, when I started
building you, I was eagerly anticipating the day when my two kids would grow up and move on with their adult lives. Now,
however, I am thinking that the name I gave you does not really fit you.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
You
have helped me see that no matter where my kids are, and even if I am your only
official occupant, you will never ever be truly empty.
You will always be full of love, and memories,
and friends, and maybe even someday, grandbabies!
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
When I am gone, I hope that whomever you choose to live with,
next, will love you as much as I do at this moment. I hope they will appreciate the time and
creative energy that went into making you, uniquely you.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
Because, you’re wonderful and amazing and adorable and
inspiring and lovely and quiet and peaceful and quaint and witty and joyful,
all at once.
Photo Courtesy of American Standard
You are, in many ways, so much like me.
And you’re perfect.
Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography
Sincerely,
Your Designer and Maker
M.J. Boyle
November 28th, 2015