Trailer Living: veRVe: excitement of imagination; spirit

I was half-serious when I quipped on Facebook a couple weeks ago, “It’s time to implement the let’s-live-in-an RV-plan.”

But now I’m for-real serious when I say: we’re moving into a travel trailer.

Uh-huh. We. Mom. Two dogs. Myself. Forty-foot travel trailer.

It’s my dream coming true right before my eyes.

It’s not a new idea, as some of you know. A few years ago, I thought it’d be fun to live off a smaller amount of money each year, save some, pay off student debt, blah, blah, blah. It never worked out.

Fast forward to three weeks ago when I got home from Ethiopia and found out I needed to move my crew. That’s when I joked, “Maybe it’s time for the RV,” and then when the house search went south in three day’s time, I told mom, “I have a tent. If worse comes to absolute shit-storm worse, we have a 6-person tent.”

She told me to hush. Something would work out.

I spent two days (and two nights) researching RV living. The problem was that I didn’t (and still don’t) have an RV and even if I found one dirt-cheap, I don’t have anything to pull it with. And by the time I finished buying an RV and paying for a place to put it, I might as well live in a house. So I switched back to searching for houses, and then mobile homes, then trailers, back to houses, rooms for rent (that allow two gigantic dogs), duplexes, back to houses … and that’s what I did for about five days, during which time I felt stupid. I felt as if everything was coming unraveled and that my world was turning upside down. I painted scenarios in my head, none pleasant and all devastating.

The day before Thanksgiving, I told my desperate, frantic self to take a break from house-hunting on Thanksgiving day.

I didn’t realize how desperate I was until my soul stilled.

You’re asking for so much, you need so much – maybe now it’s time to be still and give God a chance to breathe.

I didn’t want to, but I did.

The three days ended on a Sunday afternoon and I revved up Craigslist. First listing: 40-foot remodeled travel trailer on six acres.

No freaking way. The ad went on. It got better. I texted the woman. She didn’t reply. I called her. I left a crazy message (something like: “This is what I’ve been looking for, it’s been in my dreams, I’m writing a book about living in a travel trailer and how perfect TO LIVE IN A TRAVEL TRAILER while I’m finishing this. OK. Call me back.”) And I thought, “There’s no way. She’ll think you’re crazy. She won’t call you back.”

She called me back! I made the earliest appointment I could  and when mom and I drove up, we knew it was the one. We didn’t even need to see the inside. I had the same feeling as I had when I saw the Cottage for the first time – I wanted to curl up on the floor and go to sleep. (that’s the scientific method I use to determine where I should live)

Y’all, it was as if God had been reading my mind and he was all, “NBD. You want a fenced back yard for the dogs to play in? I’ve been working on six fenced acres for you. Y’all want a couple chickens so you don’t have to buy stock in Eggland’s Best? Here’s a little miniature chicken coop (already built, so burn the plans you printed, Holly) with a fenced in area so the dogs won’t eat them. Holly, you wanted a place to keep the puppies sanitary before you can vaccinate them for parvo? OK. Here’s a random concrete slab outside the trailer door for you to put the puppy kennel on. And guess what, you guys? You get to burn your trash. And I’ve put a couple real trees with leaves that change color for you around the trailer.”

By the time we got to the “you just burn trash in the burn barrel,” Mom and I were head-over-heels. In love. I excused us from the landlord to talk about it. We walked over to the chicken coop.

Mom looked at me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“To talk about if this is what we want to do.”

Duh.

I signed the lease today. We move in in 11 days.

Now, why exactly do I want to do this?

Because for the first time in my life I will be as close to my roots as I can physically get. I don’t have a hometown to return to, or high school reunions to attend, or streets to visit to commemorate significant events, or an old family house to have the holidays in. I grew up everywhere. I have states that mean something to me – the one I learned to ride a bike in, the one I watched John Wayne movies in, the one I wrote my first book in when I was 10 years old, the one where I rode a pony and it ran away with me, the one where my heart was broken, the one where I raised a flock of chickens; I have one night here, two weeks there, a walk in those woods, a heart-to-heart in that gas station parking lot.

I have a travel trailer.

And I get to go back to that.

I’ll also finish writing my book about living in a travel trailer WHILE I’M LIVING IN A TRAVEL TRAILER! So freaking excited.

We are in for an adventure! Join us, follow us, like us, read this.

Adventure starts now.