In mid-August, I moved out of the home I shared with my husband. My new temporary home is my parents’ converted single-car garage, a roughly 150-square-foot casita.
I have asked for a divorce, although we haven’t filed anything yet, so I’m still getting used to saying that word. My marriage had reached a point where I knew I needed to leave.
Friends offered me places to stay, but my parents are both in their early 70s, and I wanted to spend time with them. However, the idea of living together still scared me. Our relationship was especially rocky around the time I left home as a teenager, when I vowed I would never live with them again.
We’ve all changed and grown in the 20 years since. I’ve matured and gained perspective with age, and they’ve softened and become more introspective. The casita also offers more privacy than living in my old bedroom would. Still, I worried moving back home would return us to those old dynamics, but it’s only been a gift.
Courtesy of Camilla Richardson
Living in such a small space has challenges
The casita is about 10 feet by 15 feet, and an adult life does not fit neatly into that square footage. But in reality, it’s enough. It holds a bunk bed, a sofa, a kitchenette, a dresser, and a small bathroom. There’s even a little portable island for me to sit at, though I use it to hold books and paperwork at the moment. Laundry and cleaning supplies are accessible in the main house, but my trips over are most often to spend time with my parents rather than for practical reasons.
I’m still moving belongings out of my house and deciding what deserves a spot here. I’ve downsized my clothes and cleared out makeup and skincare products I wasn’t using. My book collection is harder to cull; I love my books, and haven’t figured out what to do about that yet.
The room was already furnished when I moved in, and we swapped a wardrobe for a more practical clothing rack; my mom donated the former, along with some shelves, to make space. I didn’t even have to ask. My parents haven’t imposed a laundry schedule, and they’ve made room for me without making me feel like an inconvenience.
I was especially worried about my chronic migraines during the move. I had arranged my previous home around them, including installing blackout curtains for days when the light is painful. Thankfully, my mother’s decor already included blackout curtains, too. Sound and food smells can also be difficult during an attack, but the casita has an outside entrance and is separate enough that neither has been an issue. I’m only steps from my parents, but I still have privacy.
They aren’t charging for rent or utilities while I figure out my finances during these transitional months. Hearing how much they love having me here is a balm as I go through this season.
Courtesy of Camilla Richardson
My parents have supported me in ways I didn’t expect
Most nights, we eat dinner together. I also sit with my dad while he feeds the neighborhood kittens that appear each day. They seem a little feral, but they love him. As soon as they hear his high-pitched call of “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” they come running because they know it means food. I wouldn’t see these ordinary moments if I had accepted a friend’s spare room.
My parents are softer and more easygoing than I remember. They listen when I need to talk about my marriage. Recently, I saw that my husband had taken off his wedding ring when I came to visit our dog. I was still wearing mine out of respect for the fact that we are legally married and are only beginning this process. I asked for the divorce, but seeing his bare hand still hurt.
When I came home and cried, my parents listened. Growing up, they took care of all of my physical needs. Somehow, I feel more supported by them now. Their willingness to sit with me in the sadness means more than anything they could buy or fix.
Courtesy of Camilla Richardson
The casita is giving me time to figure out what I want next
I see this as a transitional space. I don’t know where I will live next or exactly how the divorce process will unfold. Moving to my childhood home has become one of the kindest parts of an extremely painful time.
I had stopped expecting my relationship with my parents to feel this different. Living here has shown me that people can change, on both sides, even after you’ve given up imagining another version of the relationship. That means so much more to me than square footage.
