A Letter To My Tiny House

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.

Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography

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. 

Photo Courtesy of Mark Sharley Photography

 

 

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 28^th, 2015