The Tiny House is Our House.
This home will forever be ours. I love that.
I will never worry about resale value.
I can paint the walls and leave visible brush strokes, accidentally chip the sink and appreciate the new patina, enjoy the color variations of the wooden wine barrel bathtub that occur with more and more use, track our kids’ heights on the trim of the bathroom door, carve a blessing over the door with a wood burner, let Story take a crayon to her favorite stair on the steps, leave Sullivan’s blueberry fingerprint stains on the ceiling and call it art.
We can live here. And feel completely welcome and accepted in our own home.
When Ryan and I bought our first home all I could talk about was getting paint on the walls. I was so tired of renting white rooms. Seriously, signing the papers was exciting because I was finally going to paint my own house.
But once were moved in my reality quickly changed. Now all I could think about now was how much the paint would cost, how challenging it would be to do it right with little kids, and then after all that time, money, and love (I KNEW I would love it!), I would have to paint it white again (more expense!) in only 2-3 years when Ryan’s career would be changing and we would move.
Now our house moves with us. No more painting over what we leave behind.
The choices we make here will only effect us. Our ever-changing art project. We can screw hooks into the wall to dangle a small aquarium of goldfish, hang shelves in weird places, leave the wood raw and let it absorb a little history, Sullivan can stick a thousand stickers on his wall, I can write bible verses over my kids’ beds, Story can write in ‘cursive’ on her window sill.
We can make art, mistakes, and memories in our home and it will always be forgiven and never hidden.
Our Tiny House doesn’t have to look perfect for anyone else because it’s just perfect for us.
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