Rootless: On Living in Small Spaces

 

My apartment living room, bedroom, dining room, office in Mobile, Alabama. July 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

When I met a long-ago, longtime love, back in my rooted life, he lived in a small space above a bicycle shop. His space seems larger when I visualize it now, but at the time, it was so petite in comparison to my house (a modest baby ranch). 

He had a tiny bedroom that pretty much just fit a double bed, a tiny bathroom off the bedroom, a tiny kitchen, a largish living area, and best of all, a kind of enclosed balcony that, back in olden times, might have been called a sleeping porch. Windows surrounded this bonus lounging space. 

A cozy space; intimate. 

I remember thinking all those years ago: I could live in a space like this. 

Later, I met Jessica Terrell, who introduced me to tiny houses. She aspired to live in a tiny house. 

On long, meditative drives on road trips, my mind often travels to my perfect house: A one-room space that has, along one wall, a:

• Scandinavian-inspired, built-in "closet bed" (or "bed nook") with doors I can close during the day;
• Toilet room; and a
• Separate shower room.

Along a perpendicular wall are the sinks, refrigerator, and stove/oven. 

Universal design. Gosh, I love the premise, the promise, of universal design. It doesn't zero in on humans with disabilities. It includes everyone; it makes accessing the space easier for all. A description: 

The term universal design was coined by the architect Ronald Mace to describe the concept of designing all products and the built environment to be aesthetic and usable to the greatest extent possible by everyone, regardless of their age, ability, or status in life.

 I like its aim to be both aesthetic and usable. 

My El Paso kitchen. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana.

My El Paso bedroom, office, and so-called living room. El Paso, Texas. September 2016. Credit: Mzuriana.

It has happened not-infrequently in my life that when I imagine something, it eventually comes to pass. Maybe my imaginary house will, too.