650 Square Feet

Reality just jumped onto my heart. Though I’ve been aware that I’ll need to move into senior housing in order to subsist on my fixed social security income, I hadn’t fully envisioned what that might look like. The truth? Tiny.

A one-bedroom affordable housing unit averages 650 square feet –one closet, no garage, no extra storage space, and often no outside patio or balcony. My name came up for such a unit, charmingly called a cottage, a few days ago. Though I may not be chosen (there are five contenders and whoever’s application clears first gets it), my heart did not wait for outcomes. It dropped through the floor, especially after I did a drive-by to see what it looked like. It is indeed tiny –with a small, community-maintained yard and a little balcony on one side. It was raining, making everything look drab, which didn’t help. I went home thankful to be considered for the unit and overwhelmed that I might be chosen.

A day later I went back to take pictures through the front windows of the vacant little “cottage” (actually, the smaller side of a duplex, part of a grouping of 23 components). The sun was out, which helped improve my mood. Obviously in the process of being made ready for its next occupant, the flooring had been stripped, making it appear a bit dreary. A lone wheelchair sat in the front nook that probably serves as the dining area.

As I was returning to my car, an elderly resident from across the entryway called to me asking if I knew whose cat was hiding in the bushes in front of her place. As we spoke, I learned she has lived there 20 years, and the lady who lived in the now-available unit had been 100-years old. Suddenly reminded how such homes often become available to those of us on waitlists, my eyes were tempered with perception, my heart incubating empathy for people I would never meet.

Downsizing is like a tapestry woven with dark and light threads, the backside a mess of tangled strings. Currently, I’m feeling the knots of darker threads. Yet, even as I write this, I am simultaneously aware of the open weaving of brighter colors: thankfulness, hope, and contentment. It’s all a process, and I shall continue to make my nest –wherever it is– snuggling in as I invite the future to surprise me with joy as it always has.