It’s been two years today since I moved into home sweet tiny home. A year ago, I put a post on Instagram admitting that despite setting down roots, I had left my house for the majority of the year and had learned that I don’t like living alone.

A year later, I still don’t love living by myself. However, I’ve made peace with it. Part of it is due to the amazing help I’ve received from my parents to make the place feel truly mine. There are now plants growing in the front and backyard; we built a deck, which now has actual furniture on it; we remodeled the garage for a big project I have ahead. My house has never felt uncomfortable or lacking homey-ness, but the silence in it was constantly making me feel lonesome. As if: what good was such a wonderful space without someone to share it with? read more