Well... it really is gone now. It rolled down the street and out of the park, all the while waving to me with it's red prosthetic the trucker gave it and me chasing behind it so I could see it make that last turn out of the park and slip from view.

But I've still got a piece of it for my "treasures" box. It's a piece of stinky, rotten floor with some ugly, avocado green tile still stapled to it. It may be stinky, rotten and ugly, but it just proves that a refuge isn't always a luxury cabin in the woods. It is what I NEEDED at the time. Many lessons on humility, appreciation, thriftiness and the value of "things" were learned in that little tin can. Sometimes a "Little Tin Can" have much more value than a gorgeous, expensive five bedroom house in a beautiful city.

Now it's time to put those lessons to good use and appreciate my much, much newer, pretty, solid mobile home. It's time to move on.