To take away my "Little Tin Can."

There were times I could have sworn I was in Kansas because the wind would almost pick it up from it's moorings, the wind would whistle through the cracks in the windows because they wouldn't shut tight. You see, my little tin can was already limping, one side being lower than the other.

There were times when a couple of old songs would pop into me head and while I watched it rain from my deck, I would be singing "raindrops keep falling on my head" or "oh, no, don't let the rain come down. My roof's got a hole in it and I might drown." Silly songs, yes, but they sprang from being grateful for having it. And speaking of holes, there was a major one under the water heater that extended into the living room. My cat and the ferret soon found it and would make their exit through there. I smile when I think of that. There was a single vine of the huge morning glory I had growing outside coming through that hole. I let it go in hopes that it would eventually bloom in my front room.

Whenever I spoke of "my little tin can," I pictured myself in my imagination like a little furry cartoon mouse peeking out of the open end of a discarded can of beans or some such. I loved and still love "my tin can." It was a direct answer to prayer that had come from the bottom of my soul. At the time, I was staying with my best friend, but it was obvious she didn't want me setting up homesteading. I do believe she watched TV programs that made me extremely uncomfortable on purpose; like Angel and Charmed. When she turned to those, I would go outside and either sit in my car or walk around. It was one of those times that I was walking around that my soul cried out "OH GOD!!!" I had no idea what to ask for but He knew what I needed.

Three days later, my oldest son called me and asked me what I thought of Oxnard. Told him I could think of better places to live. He asked me if the name of my street sounded familiar to me and it did. Come to find out, I had never been on that particular street. His questions didn't make too much sense until he asked if I could meet him somewhere in town. Of course I could! We met and I followed him to what became "my little tin can." To me, it was like a mansion! I had all the privacy I needed. I could bring my 36" TV out of storage and watch what *I* wanted to watch and it sure wasn't going to be vampires and witches!

Because of the generous gift my son gave me, I am now in a beatiful mobile home with plenty of room to move around in my power chair. Never mind pulling myself on my desk chair anymore the narrow ten feet I had from one end of the living room to the end of the kitchen. I now have laminated floors instead of rotting pressboard; a dishwasher with a sink that is low enough for me to use without water running down to my elbows; a beautiful bay window where I can look out on a more pleasant view; on and on.

But my heart breaks at the tought of men coming to rip apart, panel by panel, that little tin can that was my refuge for so many years. It's till "Home." It's a "home" that I'm having a hard time letting go.