A Yearning for Home

Folks have asked if I miss my old community. As I’m nearing almost a year here in Okemos, Michigan, I can truthfully say: No. I feel as if I have a life here. I’ve got family, though, we don’t see or talk to each other every day. I have a job and food stores that I frequent. I have a GREAT set up here with a townhouse mostly to myself.

But.

There are times when I still feel like a transient, as if I’m still on the road somewhere trying to get home. It is then that I pine for my Tiny House. Anyone who reads this blog knows that I actually have one—sort of. It is an ADU, an accessory dwelling unit on my daughter’s property about 2 miles from where I’m staying. Since moving there the end of June I’ve been over to visit the Tiny House, but have been unable to actually move in as there are a number of things that need to happen first that involve a remodeler.

The unit is 15 x 15 and has a loft for sleeping; it is insulated, and has finished walls and floor. Other than that, it is a blank canvas.

Just the other day I was on the back porch of the townhouse where I’ve been staying and I felt a certain yearning: I wanted to be home, in my own place, not feeling like I’m borrowing or occupying someone else’s house. Which is what renting feels like.

Now this might all be illusory. There may always be unfulfilled yearnings or greener pastures or “something” out there beyond that we stretch for and can never quite reach. I might not be content once installed in my Tiny House—but until that happens I will never know.

So I wait for the day when I can actually get to a point of building out my interior plan and making a kitchen or moving in furniture, work files, setting up a desk in the corner. Hanging my plants.

Hoping to get in before the snow flies.