288 Square Feet

"The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak." - Hans Hofmann, Introduction to the Bootstrap, 1993
 
In a home, 288 square feet would make a nice sized space. You figure, that's 14 feet by 20 feet, plus some. With a sofa, loveseat, easy chair and a TV and you've got a living room. For a dining room, 8-10 people could be seated comfortably around a long country-style table with a fairly large china closet against a wall.

My first real apartment in Brookchester, over in New Milford, NJ, was 400 square feet and 288 of that would have been 3 full rooms. Still not bad if you're prepared for apartment living in post-war housing.

But then you've got our 288 square feet of internal space. In it, we have a bathroom, 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and we had to forgo the dining space for an office built to fit 2 people and run a business out of. Now granted, if you add the outdoor space under our awning, as most RV people do, there's another 119 feet you don't want to squander. So, that gives us a total of 407 square feet to make a home. In reality, it's actually bigger than my first apartment, because there you weren't allowed to place anything outside, and those extra 7 feet are to be cherished.

"Small rooms or dwellings discipline the mind, large ones weaken it." - Leonardo Da Vinci
 
So what's it like living in a space so small?

Well, let's make it clear the two humans in this tin box aren't alone. There are fellow travelers that reside with us. In the top bunk in the back bedroom, a 14 lb fuzzy 7-year-old cat makes her home. She's in the top floor condo, enjoying her sky-eye view across the RV. Her gear fills up a lot of her space, but she's made it home and seems to be settled in.

Under her, two canines have taken the lower floor condo (read: bottom bunk). Our big boy, a 70 lb mix who loves his humans a little too much sometimes, shares his residence with his little brother, a 35 lb mix, who has a mind of his own. Together, they sleep on a top-of-the-line baby mattress, with their toys, bones, food and water bowls surrounding them.

Then we have two humans. Patrick and I. We share the rest of the space. Barely. I say that because it's hard to share space that only 1 human/canine/feline can occupy at a time. You see, the RV is quite large inside without all our "stuff". But between 2 big office chairs, the rocking chair that came with the trailer and the island we built that I just had to have, there is a small aisle of about 2 feet that leads from our bedroom at the bow to the bathroom, in the stern. We spend most of the day sliding past the other person in that aisle because what we need is always on the other side of the warm body in our way.

Add to that 3 critters that are always underfoot and you can imagine how tight things are.

But I say that lovingly.

"Out of intense complexities, intense simplicities emerge." - Winston Churchill

After all, small houses bring closeness. There's not much between these walls that takes up as much space as our love for each other, even though pictures would belie that fact. Love for the pets that share our lives. Love for the child that is living 1,173 miles from us and never calls (that's a hint if you're reading this - CALL YOUR MOTHER!) Love for the sunshine outside that gives us a wonderful boost of Vitamin D and a healthy, positive outlook on the future. Or love for the cool air conditioning when that blazing ball of gas in the sky gets to be a bit too much for our delicate, Northern-born skin.

Yes, we have frustrations as we trip over each other or hand things to each other to "hang up", "put away", or "hide". And even sometimes the animals are frustrated with the size of the space, preferring to go back to their "condos" to hide out in the open space the bunks provide for them.

But all in all, as we hang hooks up and down the walls for things we will use (umbrellas, keys, dog leashes, etc.) or as we move the giant, 250 lb island back and forth so we can see the TV or access our bedroom, it all leads us to appreciate the roof over our head even more. And more than anything, it begs us to simplify. It forces us to choose. It makes us live "honestly" and "simply".

It's not a huge space by any American standard, but it's our space. It's our home for the time being, and if it gets too tight in here, we have a lovely lot that gives us another 1500 feet of space to move around in. Of course, depending on our length of time here, there may be gardens in the future and once again, we'll be resigned to following "paths" to the outside areas we plan on accessing.

But as I sit here and look out at the grounds around me, the resorts' fire pit area with it's rustic charm, the flower-laden picnic area and inlet pond to our left, the beautiful blue pool surrounded by towering palms, sea blue umbrellas and crisp white fencing to my right, I realize that no matter how small the inside of this trailer really is, there's a whole world out there calling to us. Inviting us to make it our home, encouraging us to make use of that space. Insisting it's okay to lose ourselves in the room it offers.

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." - Leonardo DaVinci

And of course, there's that screen room  we put on order. It should arrive by next Friday. And not a moment too soon!