Tiny Home, Big Living

Most of my life, I lived in a 1400 square foot three bedroom two bath home with a big yard, exterior laundry facilities and detached garage. We had a tall old magnolia tree that bloomed every summer and whose sweet sappy fragrance would waft into the open Windows and give us immaculate shade. We had an Indian peach tree that blossomed twice a year, but because no one pruned it for decades, the peaches never grew big or ripe enough to truly savor, though we enjoyed its bitter fruit. I knew my neighbors and their kids. Many of them watched my mother grow up then watched my siblings and I grow up in the same house. Somehow or someway, we had all shared a drop of blood in common— a distant great aunt, someone had the same surname, or they grew up with one of our elders which made them family by proxy. A close knit, shady, vibrant diverse suburb on the black side of my small town.

That all changed when I moved to Virginia in 2021. I landed in a gorgeous suburb of Henrico, called Wellesley. Lakes galore, biking trails, Starbucks. Cheesecake Factory was a two minute drive from my home. No kidding. The property we lived on had a giant man made lake with fountains, gazebos and bridges on the water, boat launch ramps, two pools, a gym, and so many picnic areas and bbq pits. The ducks and geese were mobsters, though. They ran the outdoors there. Mean little creatures. But they were nice to look at. And added an element of beauty and serenity when you could see them gliding across the water as if being carried by the currents.

Almost every morning, if the weather permitted, I would go down to the water, sit on a bench, pray, journal, and eat a little yogurt as people passed by jogging or walking their dogs. I can smell the moss, the moist air, the dog poop and the Indian breakfast. Most of my neighbors were Indian. I do miss smelling their cuisine each day. Haha. Seeing that sun shine over that water? There was no better way to start the day.

At the time my husband did insurance. He performed well in his company and sometimes we got to go on company trips. For the first time ever, I got to visit Maryland, Pennsylvania (which is just gorgeous) Delaware, New Jersey and New York. I stayed behind at the hotel while he worked during the day— enjoying continental breakfast, visiting hotel gym, writing in the room.

That was my life as a housewife. Shopping? No. Pampering? Only if you consider the fact I did all the pampering myself. Vacations? Nope. But time, yes. Freedom, yes. Space to be creative, feminine, and cultivate cozy at home— one thousand percent.

Lasted a few years. Then my husband lost that job. We ended up moving into his parents home after he couldn’t find another income in time. Dreams crushed. Reality set in.

They have a gorgeous home. It was built in 2009 I think. They are the third owners of it. It sits on a hill, heavily wooded, and at the bottom of the hill behind a trail in the woods, is private access to a historical river, a piece of which they own. No matter the season , deer abounded in groups. They would just appear in the backyard like mythical creatures, graze on the wild earth and take off running if you even breathed wrong.

The views were better than that of my previous home.

The kitchen had two porcelain sinks— one for dishes and the other on the island strictly for veggies. Two ovens. Living room: twelve foot ceilings. Guest room where we initially stayed: massive walk in shower. Then we moved to the basement: theatre in progress, a gym, a den and another guest room.

The neighbors were quiet and seemed well to do. Their kids were happy and their dogs well behaved. Most white, a few black, and a few interracial families. All tucked away behind winding roads hedged in by fields of corn and horses and American flags. Not the Virginia I knew, but the Virginia I grew to love. It reminded me of Texas, sans corn fields.

It was there I got pregnant again— a prayer answered. My husband found another good job this time in government—another prayer answered. And we accumulated maybe $25,000 more in debt.

Our engine went out, on a brand new 2021 car. $8000. I gave birth in a birth center— $2000. Student loan delinquencies. Fines from the eviction at our previous home. Credit cards. Help from in-laws… Life suddenly seemed like a trap. Everyday I thought towards the sky, “Hey! I didn’t sign up for this. Stop this!”

Though I loved the home, I accepted that it wasn’t my own. My husband’s parents made that clear to us. We could only breathe when they were off on one of their many vacations— Montego Bay, Napa Valley, St Martin. I wish I was making this up. While they were away, we relaxed upstairs, walked around naked, and Get this—didn’t wash dishes immediately after eating. I know I should feel Ashamed of myself but I don’t. But when they were home, we stayed in the basement, fully clothed, and swiftly cleaned up every little mess we made so that they might forget that that their hard headed baby boy and his broke, pregnant unemployed “Hebrew housewife” were living in the basement. I tried to become invisible.

That was me in a big home doing tiny living. We’d moved in March 2023. Here we are, November 2024, almost two years later, finally in our own spot again. And it is small. Especially since we have another person with us: the baby.

One bedroom, one bath. No dining room, just a bar with room for stools. No balcony. Low ceilings. No deer. No gym. No Indians frying fritters at nine in the morning.

In fact, it’s a new construction. We don’t have neighbors at all really. So it tends to be quiet aside from the construction. Cheesecake Factory is nine minute drive away. No biking trails. A C-rated hotel across the street. Close to a major noisy interstate highway. Aldi and thrift stores a five minute walk up a hill. Pretty tucked away into a forgotten corner of the city. Forgotten but safe.

Our bedroom is big enough for our queen bed, two dressers, my sons play pen, and My desk with plenty of walk room leftover. My view outside right now is the woods— red yellow and brown. Everyday there are helicopters and planes and fire engines singing. It’s not as picturesque as 2021, 2022, or 2023. But it’s ours. We can walk around naked and leave dishes in the sink if we want!!!!

I won’t lie. Money is tight. Tighter than it’s ever been. We’ve been here three weeks and haven’t been able to get groceries. I cook maybe once a week. The other days we are eating sandwiches, noodles, leftovers or fast food. Thankfully my baby is breastfed and wears reusable diapers, otherwise his needs would obliterate the money we have left after bills.

I try to make the best of it all. I stick to our routine. Morning oatmeal, play time, nap time, lunch, play time, nap time, dinner. I pray. Not consistently but I pray. I serve my husband. I take the baby on walks through the empty parking lot when it’s sunny. I do the laundry. I try to slow down. Read books. Write. Play with my baby. Enjoy my ramen lunch or my sandwich. Day by day.

There’s a lot I could be complaining about. I’ve never lived so tiny. But then I remember the people of Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Libya, Ethiopia. People right here in this country living on the streets. Child slaves. People who would see BIG in my life where I only see tiny.

Tiny is good, though. No space for junk and things means more time for imagination and creativity. I’ve always been a straight to the point kinda minimalist. Minimal wardrobe, furniture and appliances. Low maintenance. I care more about being available with my family.

I’ll be turning twenty six next month. I’ve only been a full time homemaker for a few years and I am already feeling that sense of dread…

Am I wasting my life? Wouldn’t my talents be better used elsewhere? What if my husband dies? That I need to live bigger.

I’ve experienced bigger. It’s not better.

We are progressing swiftly through autumn, settling into our new place, finding a rhythm. I expect by the turn of the season, I will have fully embraced this chapter of bigger laughter, bigger gratitude, longer hugs, in this smaller abode.

There’s no such thing as a home that’s too small!