“I was up all night,” Chris shared sluggishly over a cup of coffee. “Thinking.”

“Me, too,” I said. “What about?”

“The reality of living 6 months in a trailer. I am oscillating between moments of excitement and asking myself what on earth we did.”

“Me too. I realized last night that we always told ourselves we could head home if we weren’t having fun. But with our house rented almost entirely for the months we are gone… we effectively have no home outside the trailer. We are committed. That is a heavy thought.”

And so went many of the conversations of our first week. All the feels rose to the surface as good things (like more people renting our house) and bad things (like barfing kids) dominated our first week on the road.

Shrinking Pains

My son gets “growing pains” a lot. And “shrinking pains” aren’t much different. They refer to the dull ache in your legs, this time not from growing but from being kicked in the night (small beds) or toes stepped on repeatedly as everyone maneuvers around the trailer.

It can also mean the emotional discomfort and stretching that is involved in adapting to change. Change in how much space you have, change in daily routines, change in the amount of time we are around each other and how we handle each other’s emotions.

Photo Credit: Jess Curren from CurrentlyWandering.com

If I am going to be honest, I think as Americans we often try to avoid these types of pains. We give family and friends more space when things get hard. We don’t want to have to deal with the emotions of those closest to us. I certainly don’t. But I also am learning that some of the deepest and most profound moments of relationship and community happen when we enter into the mess.

Living in 200 sq. ft. requires you to enter into the mess. To get your hands dirty, both emptying the black water tank, hauling 50 lbs water jugs to refill your tanks, and talking your pre-teen daughter through her explosive emotions. Sometimes we need space, and we take it outdoors. And other times we need patient forbearance.

And so in this way, I am thankful for the opportunity to be forced into drawing close to my kids and husband. For the new places we get to explore, the adventures ahead, and our tiny house on wheels that allows us to do it.

Airstream Life

People ask us what it is like camping for weeks on end. Let me be clear. Living in a trailer is not camping. I liken it much more to tiny house living.

We still have a full kitchen, heat, bathrooms and showers. We have laptops and signal boosters, and if we choose we can stream a show off Netflix for the evening.

Things that are different? Due to work and school, we have to remain “on grid,” hunting down camping spots with decent cell coverage. We have to watch our water usage like a hawk, figure out where we are going to park our house for the next night or next week, and get creative with storage.

Photo Credit: Jess Curren from CurrentlyWandering.com

And because we have this tiny house on wheels, we can park our house right in the lap of some of the most sought after land on earth. We can hike Angel’s Landing before school, do the Narrows after work, meet up with online friends for pizza, and mountain bike through hoodoos, all by simply walking out the door.

And that friends is why we are doing this. That makes all the shrinking pains worth it.

See you on the road,

Alyssa

Kai after a 8 mile MTB ride. PS: The Rad Dog collapsible water bowls are awesome!