So, the tiny house was coming along pretty great. Slowly, but surely, things were coming together. I’d scored some really great materials at the salvage place, and when my family arrived for a month long visit, I was excited to kick construction into high gear. And for the first week everything was great. We camped out at the cabin, using water from the stream-fed pond for cooking and to use in our make-shift shower (made out of some old 2×4’s and a tarp) and working on non-glamourous stuff like installing plumbing pipes and insulating the floor. It was pretty wonderful actually; my folks had never spent the night out there and it was so great to show them how peaceful it was out in the middle of the forest. Somehow, I managed to fit my parents, my sister, her three kids, two dogs and a pet chicken into my tiny house. It helped that so far, it was just one open room with a loft, but even still, we were squished in there like sardines.
My family drove up from Texas in their SUV, and in order to bring all of my dad’s tools, they bought a travel trailer that they could attach and tow. We ended up using the trailer to haul lots of materials out to the cabin, among them my new window. I was super excited as we loaded it and I was in good spirits as we drove from my house in town over to the cabin. But then, as we got there, and began to unload, I discovered this:
I couldn’t believe it. My window. Broken. Along with my soul. (Insert violin music.) I was so bummed out. I knew it could be fixed but would probably take quite a bit of money, so I decided to step back and re-evaluate and see what I should do.
After that whole little episode, I thought to myself, “okay, just a little hiccup, it’s not that bad.” Little did I know, there was more drama heading my way.
My folks stayed out at the tiny house while my sister and I would head back to city and work during the week. We’d decided that on a certain Thursday, we’d drive out to the cabin, get my parents and come back so that they could get some rest over the weekend. That night, we arrived to discover that my 10 year old nephew was….missing. He’d been playing in the woods by the tiny house and my family couldn’t find him. I joined in the search, calling his name and walking all over, but he didn’t answer. It was starting to get dark. I then realized that we had no choice but to call the police. So I drove my sister to the nearest town (we have no cell phone signal out at the property), she called the police, and my place ended up full of police officers, park rangers, tons of search and rescue volunteers, search dogs and even a helicopter. It got dark, they continued searching, and as you might imagine, my family was basically in a state of shock and worry. They searched all night, without luck. The search continued through the morning, another helicopter was brought in, and THANK HEAVENS he was eventually found. He was scratched up, with bug bites, a bee sting, he was cold and hungry, but otherwise he was alright.
After such a huge scare, I decided it was best to take a few days off from being out at the cabin. I brought my family back to the city and we took a few days to calm down and let everyone get some rest. When I considered how badly things could have turned out, it really put things in perspective. A broken window means nothing compared to a lost kid! But thankfully, everything turned out alright. And I realized we’d have quite an interesting story to tell future visitors to the tiny house!