I’ve been downsizing for the last several years – from a duplex to a room rental to a studio. Each time I move I try to sell or donate anything I don’t need or love (and I’m often surprised at how the definition of what I really need  changes.) I started thinking of what it would be like to live even smaller – from time to time I researched tiny houses and how much they would cost, even bought a raffle ticket to try to win one. Then Universe was like: oh yeah?

The beautiful studio I lived in burned down along with about 5,000 other homes in the Tubbs fire (wild. fire.). Housing prices in the bay area were already exorbitant, but after the fires landlords and homeowners capitalized on the short supply and high demand. Rental and sale prices skyrocketed so high sometimes I would do a double take looking through listings. Wait, they’re really serious?! I had to just laugh, while gently crying inside… How can I live here?

I have the best friends and family on earth who offered rooms, but I have a high-level fear of intruding on people’s spaces, especially now with my half-paralyzed 70 pound dog in tow.

We found and loved a short-term rental on the coast for the summer, but it ended at the end of September and I didn’t have a plan. I do this thing that drives my friends crazy sometimes where I just don’t plan things. I trust that it will all work out. Like the time I flew to Greece on a volunteer trip without booking my first night’s hotel (which turned out awesome, by the way!)

The first couple of weeks were rough and my intrusion complex kept us moving around a bit. I was getting restless and a bit frustrated schlepping my big old man dog around and figuring out which bag I put that shirt in and did I leave my face wash at the last place and why can’t I fall asleep here, etc., etc. I was starting to wonder if my trust strategy had a flaw, but maybe it was just being tested.

Because just as it was feeling a little unbearable, a miracle came through.

Local builders had started a tiny house project just after the fires but had hit several roadblocks in certifying it. It was now move in ready AND I found a friend with property and hookups. I questioned it several times – are you sure? ME? This is happening?

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I could hardly believe it. Or maybe, it wasn’t so hard to believe, just hard to accept. The first morning I woke up I was amazed at the level of utility, creativity, generosity, and good energy that could be packed onto a tiny trailer with wheels.

I joke that you have to be careful what you wish for. I thought of being a minimalist all that time and here I am, in a tiny house, by way of a very unexpected course. But truly, it feels like an amazing blessing, not a curse.

It feels like home.

And I couldn’t be more grateful or more excited for this next adventure.

We’re still getting settled in and figuring out how to find green living products and tiny shower curtain rods and hinge tables (more to come on all that.) For now, we’re just enjoying being home sweet tiny home!