This morning, as I was walking back to my tiny trailer from my long, hot shower in the campground restroom, I saw in the distance a woman and seven children emerging from the tent section. They were all staring, smiling, and pointing at my trailer.
My tiny rig seems extra appealing during these foggy summer mornings on the Oregon coast. The bright maroon tapestries hanging from the awning are a beacon of warmth. The string of old-fashioned lights hanging on the curved edge of the awning emit a soft, welcoming glow. The red and white fake roses I have put in a suction-cup bath caddy under the side window evoke a cottage in the French countryside. The pink cloth (a curtain panel from my previous life in a house) that covers the picnic table completes the bold statement: This is girl thing!
As I moved closer to the kids and the woman, I wanted to let them know that this what a woman can create in the world, without apology, shining bright, and daring to look different from all the other rigs.
I thought in the seconds as we approached that I wanted these kids to attach this stupendous, glorious rig to a woman of power.
As we neared each other, I smiled and called out: “Do you like my trailer?”
It wasn’t that I needed accolades or for them to acknowledge my decorating prowess. I have needed that in the past, so I’m clear that the motivation this time was not for my needs, but for theirs.
In my own early life of despair and self-loathing because i heard a different drummer than those around me, I was strengthened by visions of unique humans. Maybe I was also a unique human? But how could I let go of the self-loathing born from the expectation of what I thought society demanded of me and my absolute inability to fulfill that demand?
If just one of those kids following that woman struggled with the soul woundedness of not fitting in and not knowing there was any alternative, then letting that kid know there was one more person in the world who decided to be different, to be authentic, would be cause enough for me to call out: “Do you like my trailer?”
And the mother (or mother figure) affirmed that yes, they loved it, and they love it every time they walk by. And I gave my usual response: “It’s a girl thing.” Of course, it’s not just a girl thing. It might be a feminine thing, but that tendency is not limited to girls.
Even though I usually avoid speaking with people in the morning until I’m fully centered, I realized this was a golden moment that came upon me to possibly make a mark, one precious child at a time.
