I moved all over the place as a kid. I mean it. Rarely were we somewhere over a year. It was a milestone if we made it for 2 Christmases. It just didn’t happen.
Whenever we moved- I was the eternal optimist thinking things like- maybe we’ll be here forever. Or at the very least – this is a nice place for now. That applied to almost every place we lived – except this trailer.
We moved to Cadillac, Michigan after a brief-ish stint at my grandparent’s place in Oak Park (where we relocated after leaving Louisiana). Dad found us a place we could afford at the end of Arbutus Ave, just off of Lake Mitchell. Loved the area, the neighbors were great, and there were kids all over! It was a nice place to ride bikes around and my first favorite dog, Sport, was found the day we moved in. But the trailer itself? Well. Keep reading.
I think it hated me. If a building was demon possessed – this was it. When it rained outside- we scrambled for pan to catch the water. When it was cold outside – we had hot places and cold places… nothing was really modulated correctly. And the stove tried to kill me too.
I remember like it was yesterday. I was about 10, cooking macaroni and cheese on the electric stove. I’ve always been vertically challenged so I was standing on a chair, so as a trailer is set up, I was kinda trapped unless I jumped off the side into the sink. All I know is sparks started shooting out at me and all I could do was scream. Of course Dad was there and ran over- calmly shut the burner off (duh) and gave me a hug. Thankfully dad knew how to actually fix the issue (new burner element) so I didn’t die or set the place on fire the next time I cooked.
The negativity surrounding this place was insane too. Although there were a few good times, like my 10 year old birthday party and digging snow forts into the plow hills, and my favorite thing— roller skating up the road at The Spot roller rink, there were so many bad memories there. My beloved Sport was killed by a kid screwing around trying to drift on snow. Sport suffered for 3 days before he passed on December 17, 1991. My father was still a raging alcoholic and my mom was dancing. I was still an only child and felt like I was a burden a lot of the time.
Fast forward to 2015, I took a side trip to show my little sister where we used to live. Although she technically never lived there- I wanted to visit what I assumed would be a different place on the lot. Just so she could visualize stories. That same pit was there. But – here’s the silver lining:
I needed that house. I needed the experience of what people live in. I am not entitled. I know first hand how it feels to live in a place where people laugh at you because it sucks. I understand what it’s like to live in a rusted out single wide. And I tell you – I appreciate the hell out of my home. I’m living in a rental that I love to hate. The house is nice- a palace compared to that tin can on Arbutus, but it’s not home. We are building home again. The fire won’t take that away.
But – I kinda hope they update that trailer so people don’t have to keep experiencing it 😉
-Doni 
