Are we really homeless? What constitutes a home? These questions have been going through my mind since I responded to TheSandman's posting this morning. Whilst I still own a house, it is rented out for three years so in fact it is not my home, I do not live there and cannot go there, without permission. To honest I don't want to and really hope the tenants buy it, as the one thing I am sure of is that I do not want to live in that particular part of the country again.
I am sitting outside, in the sunshine, clear blue skies, watching the yachts bobbing on the sea, it is quiet, serene and I am as happy as a lark. I am sitting on a flat piece of concrete, under my awning, there is a clothesline at the back, no rocking chair or plum tree, there are gum trees at the front though, and next to me is my "home". For now she is stationery, and she will move when I choose to.
I am not homeless, I have my home it just happens to be on wheels. I have always loved my static homes, however my love for Miss Daisy far surpasses any of the others. Inside it is decorated to my likes, it has treasures and trinkets that mean something to me, I am guessing it is not much smaller than a small bedsit, I have my bedroom, kitchen area, bathroom, sitting area, and study area, and this bedsit comes complete with a driving area also. My awning doubles as my shelter and patio and the view can change from day to day, sometimes hour to hour. I have a beautiful home I think. I love being a gypsy.
Now, this of course is my story and my life. I love it. I am in good health so I have that in my favour, and for now it is the lifestyle I have chosen to live. It is different courses for different horses, and NO, I am NOT HOMELESS. I really believe home is where your heart is, and there are many people living in "homes" and their hearts are somewhere else.
This is not intended to upset anyone or make others wrong for their choices, just another point of view.
Too right, Shekon. Home really is where the heart is... and, may I add, the heart is where your "treasures" are. Over the years, I've had interesting convos with an American friend in Oregon who talks about A, B and C class motorhomes, and how the Americans like to have something about 300 feet long with an indoor swimming pool and tennis court. Hehe. But as I kept telling him, it's not the living space you have inside that matters, it's the space outside... a backyard as big as the whole of Australia! There's only so much room you need for sleeping, cooking, etc. Anyway, I'm glad you feel the way you do about your new gypsy lifestyle. I wholeheartedly concur.
Hi Shekon, totally agree with all of that. On occasions people ask us"where is home? And my answer is always the same, where the wheels touch the ground. It's so funny to watch some peoples responses.
Enjoy the journey
briche
__________________
You only live once, but if you live it right, once is enough !!!!!!
Thanks so much for your post, love your story.
We have moved house quite a lot over the years and your post bought back some interesting memories. That is that we have always felt sad when we moved as we were leaving our home. BUT when we unpack at the new house and start seeing our own things [and pets] around we suddenly feel very much that we are home.
So there you go like Gary said we might just have to take a few of those 'treasures' with us when we hit the road.
Totally agree, my home moves with us too, one of our favourite sayings is, if we get bored with the landscape job in our back yard, we just move, coastal back yard one day, rainforest the next , the world is our pearl to explore, enjoy your travels
Hey Shekon, love the avitar, must remember that one.
We have two homes, both deeply embedded in the heart, one has wheels, one has veranda's overlooking the rain forest.
Gary, good point, be it 300 feet long, or just 16 like ours, the view out the window is just the same, and we can change it any time we like. By your friend in Oregon's standard we are probably about Z class, but I bet we have just as much fun.