Many days have passed since that cool early spring afternoon in April of 2012…
Never would I believed as I sat in a on my back porch, in a chair that was my fathers sipping a cup of coffee and healing from a motorcycle accident that my new found obsession would be taking shape now in the autumn of 2017.
Too numerous are the times I’ve fought that internal struggle. The one that occurs every time I attempt to manifest the means to repay all of those dear souls who have lent a hand along the way.
Monetary compensation alone cannot hold a candle to the staggering generosity shown to Anne and I (which is apt as there is none of that at the present time). To take upon themselves a task for no other reason than to add to another persons life, let alone provide them with a means in which to live it.
For a period of a little over a year our Tiny House has lay dormant for the most part, covered in a cloak of darkness, awaiting rebirth. Now once again, thanks to the kind hand of others, we are coming out of the darkness and into the light.
As I sit in the master loft, looking out of the pane-less windows into the surrounding woods, a renewed sense of vigor and appreciation flooded through me. I was glimpsing the future. The future of what would be our home. What would someday hold the moments and treasures of the memories of those who spent time there, loving, laughing and just sharing life.