Sunday, September 10, 2006
Gypsy Blood?
“Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie...” ran through my head upon seeing the cement block tombstone of a lady’s pet cat today. The scene was acres of grass dotted with cactus and sagebrush in open range land, backed by several mountain ranges. The 40-acre plot we had come to see included a nice mobile home with two decks, a well/storage building and camper trailer, well off the beaten track. Spacious. Quiet. Tranquil. Dream like.
Memories of other mobile homes came to mind. When I was about two years old, our family of seven lived in a tiny trailer house north of the little Spring Grove school near Gainesville, Texas.
At perhaps age 14, neighbor Nova and I slept in one a bit larger in the yard of their farm home, dreaming magnificent dreams.
As newlyweds, Harry and I bought the cutest one-bedroom red-and-white doll house I had ever seen, with just enough space on the hall dressing table for a baby’s bassinet when Joe was born.
While our aerial spraying business was floundering, our family of six lived in a two-bedroom trailer in Spur, Texas. What an exciting year that turned out to be!
After buying the Trent family farm, we added to the small house by parking a two-bedroom trailer near the back door. It housed our three girls awhile, then Joe and Rhonda, Mama and Daddy, and eventually Tom and Peggy when they pulled it to Odessa during oil boom days.
Retired from farming after the kids were grown and gone, we moved to a three-bedroom mobile home in Childress, a very comfortable abode for 11 years. We expected to buy a small piece of land in the foothills of the Sandia Mountains of New Mexico, and park a mobile home on it to live out the rest of our days, but Molly insisted on buying the lovely house that has now been home for almost seven years.
Will we begin another adventure on the 40 acres and start planning their retirement home, or keep looking for the perfect spot? I’m glad the decision is theirs–not mine.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
Memories of other mobile homes came to mind. When I was about two years old, our family of seven lived in a tiny trailer house north of the little Spring Grove school near Gainesville, Texas.
At perhaps age 14, neighbor Nova and I slept in one a bit larger in the yard of their farm home, dreaming magnificent dreams.
As newlyweds, Harry and I bought the cutest one-bedroom red-and-white doll house I had ever seen, with just enough space on the hall dressing table for a baby’s bassinet when Joe was born.
While our aerial spraying business was floundering, our family of six lived in a two-bedroom trailer in Spur, Texas. What an exciting year that turned out to be!
After buying the Trent family farm, we added to the small house by parking a two-bedroom trailer near the back door. It housed our three girls awhile, then Joe and Rhonda, Mama and Daddy, and eventually Tom and Peggy when they pulled it to Odessa during oil boom days.
Retired from farming after the kids were grown and gone, we moved to a three-bedroom mobile home in Childress, a very comfortable abode for 11 years. We expected to buy a small piece of land in the foothills of the Sandia Mountains of New Mexico, and park a mobile home on it to live out the rest of our days, but Molly insisted on buying the lovely house that has now been home for almost seven years.
Will we begin another adventure on the 40 acres and start planning their retirement home, or keep looking for the perfect spot? I’m glad the decision is theirs–not mine.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
