“Yes,” she said with a slightly worried smile, “but where do you come back to?”

I tried phrasing it another way, “We don’t have a home to come back to…our Vancouver apartment has been leased for a year and I think it’s probably going to continue to be rented out for a long time after that.”

 

 

 

“But then,” she said, “where’s your home?”

I laughed, “We are living out of our trailer.”

She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the information. Clearly it made no sense.

 

 

And on those mornings when it’s pouring neck-cringing buckets and the windows are dripping on the inside and the world has shrunk to the inside of a ham can, with about as much warmth…I think about that woman’s reaction and wonder, “Are we nuts?”

She’s certainly not the first person we’ve met who has been quite dismayed that we are living in such a tiny trailer. Not every woman is envious of the fact that I have one clear bin for all my clothes and that the bin is not even in the trailer, but squashed in the back of the car.

It’s not exactly the stuff of walk-in-closet dreams.

 

 

But then the skies clear, the road beckons and we eat another dinner al fresco with nothing but sighing trees, sparkling birds and appetites made huge by hikes in mountains, and I realize once again: I am home.

 

 

This is my life. All of it. The good, the bad and the ugly.

There are those not-so-good dreary mornings where I wake up with a dread that lingers from an unremembered dream, a sadness that drags up darker memories. But then I remind myself, I’ve had those kind of mornings even when we had an address.

Besides, this life includes more of the other kind of mornings; the times when the coffee has never been better and the air is so full of oxygen that it feels like I’m breathing champagne.  On those days I find it easier to remember that wherever we live, whatever we do and however we choose to do it…each day comes with its own colour but I am the artist that decides the final palette.

 

 

On those darker days, when life doesn’t look too shiny, when I’ve banged my elbow, yet again, in the impossibly small bathroom, when my rain jacket is in the car, the monsoon is unstoppable and I need to go outside, when the blueberries fall out of the fridge and roll across the muddy floor to join the salt and pepper that fell out of the other cupboard (contents tend to shift while driving) and when, more than anything, I just want to flop on a large sectional sofa with a big-assed coffee table piled with books and a perfect cappuccino surrounded by everything I know and love and yet I know that scenario is about as likely as a unicorn appearing at my trailer door to take me on a sky-high daisy-filled ride over multiple rainbows…on those days I remember that I need to dig a little deeper and to practise gratitude with more focus.

I take some deep breaths and by the time I’ve listed all that I am thankful for, I find that though I might not be riding bareback through the rainbows, the day’s colour has definitely shifted from that darkest edge of grey to a lightly glowing magenta.

One thing I know for certain: we all struggle with something.

No life is easy. No life is perfect. No matter how it appears on Facebook. Even when everything in the external world is sunny and appearing to be perfect, there can always be internal weather that is filled with the darkest and stormiest of thoughts.

So when things are looking rough, whether internally or externally or both, I remind myself that although I rarely have control over most situations, my freedom lies in how I choose to react within those circumstances.

Each day I have the opportunity to make my choices.

And so I choose gratitude.

I choose love.

I choose connection.

Each day, every hour, and sometimes….if it’s all I can manage, each minute, I remember that I always have a choice.

 

 

So, it is quite possible that this whole plan is crazy. Clearly it’s not for everybody. But it also feels right. When I was a kid, I used to love ‘playing house’.

And now, here we are, towing a big doll house. How can I possibly take myself too seriously if I’m just playing? And where is it written that life is supposed to be such a serious undertaking anyway?

So, if this is crazy, then I’m certainly blessed to have a partner who thinks that this kind of crazy is a good idea.

And for that?

I am truly grateful.