An investor bought the property next to us, and because the trailer was old and decrepit, had to move the renter over to another. The property hasn’t been sold yet, so the trailer just sits there, getting older and more decrepit each month.
Most people would find it an eyesore. I don’t; I’m fond of it. My kids play in the overgrown grass, gathering wild berries and riding their bikes. Someday when they’re older I want to tell them about when we first moved in here and how the people who lived here were our neighbours, and how friendly they were to two kids who were just trying to make it work (we were just 23 years old, without a single damn clue about anything).
When we started building the house, I couldn’t wait to get rid of the trailer. Low ceilings (it was 7′) and the mess (there was nowhere to store things) was starting to do things to my head; depression can be so dependent on the environment, and my brain is one of those pesky things that go a little crazy if you keep me locked up in a box for days on end. So I was glad to see it go…the trailer with the leaking roof and the mice and the rotting floors.
But I also knew it marked the end of an era. I knew I was saying goodbye to the sound of my daughter toddling along the floors that creaked with each step. To the sound of rain, which always felt like a soothing blanket around the narrow house. I would miss the sound of the TV while doing chores, and the smell of damp wood, which isn’t at all unpleasant if you get used to it. The new house had a kitchen larger than the old living room, but I knew I would miss cooking in that tiny space, where I chopped vegetables while balancing the chopping board over dirty dishes and I didn’t bother to wipe the table because it was going to be messy, anyway. (Note to self, I still don’t).
I’m a nostalgic person. It’s something I share with my husband; even after 17 years together we can easily spend a whole afternoon reminiscing our past and all we’ve shared. So even with the nice big house now, I still look back fondly at those days…we still talk about them on evenings during our after-dinner walks. There’s a Filipino saying: “One cannot reach one’s destination without looking back at where one came from.” And the truth is, we were so happy in that ratty old place. Love and happiness and joy are not dependent on nice things. I learned this a long time ago, and have never forgotten it.
