The day has finally come.  Can you believe it?  Not me, and I just did it.  The Airstream has moved to Boxes in Fields.  The property is no longer just the property, Boxes in Fields is now home.  There is septic, electricity, and water.  Okay, there is not a well or city water, but there is enough water in an IBC tote to last a few weeks.  I mean good golly, there is already 14KWH on the meter just from the septic system pump running.  14 KWH to run a pump that does not even have poop in it yet.  So yeah, home.  Home is where you make it, right? Or is it, home is what you make it? Or how about, home is where you tow it?

Moving is bittersweet, it always is. Since the very first move when leaving the parents house many, many, many years ago, to the move today, there have been ten moves in twenty years. Good grief Charlie Brown! Ten moves in twenty years. That seriously is a lot of moves.  These moves have been across town and to different cities, from rentals to homes to RVs to rentals and back to the RV again, from wanted and necessary to unwanted and forced, and from exciting to what the hell are we thinking scary.  No matter the reason for the nine moves before today, none of the moves were as stressful as today’s move.

No, this move did not involve the packing up of boxes.  No, this move did not involve the removal of unwanted, unused, unneeded crap.  And no, this move did not require the process of settling into a new homestead.  This move was not any different than the move from one RV location to another location.  In essence, that was exactly what this move was, the move from one RV park to our own RV park. Huh, Boxes in Fields RV Park.  Yeah, that is NOT okay.  Boxes in Fields is not an RV park.  It is an idea, years in the making, in working form.  From this stance, as compared to other moves, this move should have been easy.

But for lots of reasons, it wasn’t. For the first time ever, family came to help move.  Came to help move, are you kidding me?  We are moving the self-contained living quarters literally just one mile down the road.  The only thing needing to be “moved” are the few extras stored outside: the Kid’s toy box, the kayaks, the rugs to keep the sand at bay, the deck, and the sailboat.  There are no outside table and chairs, no plants or shrubbery, no garden tools or lawn equipment.  But like hell if I am gonna turn down help. One less kayak to move is one less kayak to move.  Bring on the family. Besides, it is the Thanksgiving holidays and our time is being spent with family.  Just not in the traditional pass the turkey and dressing, please.  More like, pass the straps and tie the ropes, please.

Then again, there is the saying, too much of a good thing. Not only did family come to help, the neighbors came in full force.  It was the raising of a wall moment.  There were helpers and watchers, unsolicited advisors and directors, cheerers and worries, and of course those that just got in the way.  As I stood watching these people do my work, I was saddened by the sudden loss of my community.

These people have been my neighbors for five years.  The Kid turned three the first time we lived at the park and then he turned seven when we moved back and will turn nine in just a few days.  These people have watched him grow from a tight curly, white blond hair to straight, stringy Nirvana hair, from a mini bike with extra large training wheels to 20″‘ wheels and stunt pegs, from chubby little-uncoordinated arms and legs to long lanky, never stop moving, limbs.  These people are as much his family as his family is.  They have been with him for half his life.  There were days when he was gone for too long and when found, he is found with a neighbor, talking and carrying on about who only knows what. Knowing the Kid, it is probably the family secrets. When new neighbors move in, we are introduced as the Kid and the Kid’s parents.  Makes me wonder if our neighbors even know our names.  Sure they do, right, maybe? Nah probably not, we are the Kids’ parents.  And as I stand there watching, it occurs to me that this move is unlike any other move before.  This move is the removal from a community. So while too much help can be a bad thing, I will let these people help because if reversed, I would want to help too. That’s what family is all about, helping.

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After many affection goodbyes and good riddances, this crazy train left.  There was the family with the extras on their trailer, the Planner with the Airstream, and me with the Kid and the doggo bringing up the rear in the beep-beep acting as the buffer between the rest of the world and the crazy caravan in front.  One left out of the park and two rights later, the train pulled into the driveway leading home.  In that short amount of time, a crazy tag along had been picked up at the end of the caravan. 

Don’t you know that crazies attract crazies?  This crazy following us is the best crazy ever, the Caretaker.  The Caretaker, on her way to visit with her family, bought us leftover Thanksgiving dinner.  She knew that A) we did not celebrate turkey day yesterday in preparation for the move today, B) we would be tired from moving and would not have planned dinner for tonight, and C) we never turn down free food. Her leftovers were not scrapes either.  These plates, filled to the brim, contained the full turkey day meal and came with desert.  The only thing missing was canned cranberry sauce.  But since I am the only person in my family who likes the jellied canned cranberry flavored sauce, the plates were perfect.  Like I said, the Caretaker is the best crazy ever!  And why is she crazy you ask?  Well, because she is friends with me and claims to enjoy my company.  Like I said, crazies attract crazies.

The move to Boxes in Fields is difficult.  There is no easy connection to water, no pre-established clean pad-site, no amenities such as running water, laundry facilities, or paved roads.  This move did not result in more living space, a garage, or a backyard.  This move is a constant reminder of the absence the long term plans and goals: chickens, aquaponics, water collection facilities, and solar power generation. Minimalist living.  But that is not right either.  There will be a room for the Planner and me, a room for the Kid, a kitchen, a living space, and a bathroom.  None of these will be combined in anyway shape or form.  So no, not minimalist living by current standards.  These rooms will be adequate, not excessive.  There is a difference.  And that difference is the difference between Boxes in Fields and everybody else.  No two families have the same idea for “what is adequate”.  Some of our closest friends live in a 3000 sf home, not including the basement and the four car garage. Yet this family of four fills up every room comfortably.  This modern home is what works best for them and that is okay with Boxes in Fields. Just don’t ask Boxes in Fields to have an extra bedroom for the occasional guest.  Sorry, not gonna happen.  If you want to visit with us you better pack a tent, bring a camper, or rent a hotel room.  You can stay as long as you want, but there will not be an extra room.  You can, of course, sleep on the couch if there is one someday down to the road.  Boxes in Fields is what is right for us at this time.  No, not today but when completed. So yeah, Boxes in Fields .  Home to the Planner, me, the Kid, and the crazy doggo.