Behind My House

Behind my house is a small trailer park made up of eight or nine trailers. They're small, old, in dire need of repair and look cold on the inside. Some have beautiful yards, fenced to keep the neighborhood dogs out of the flowers beds, and some look like mini transfer stations. I've always been drawn to trailer parks. When I was a kid I dreamed of living in a small trailer next to the ocean. As an adult I dream of buying a few acres on a lake and setting up a trailer for Krista and I to visit on the weekends. There are trailer parks littered through out Missoula (there's never been a lot of thought put behind zoning) but that's all changing. Trailer parks are slowly being replaced by poorly built craftsman-style houses. The latest fad. Tonight, was one of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen in years and I couldn't help but see the beauty in the simplicity of my neighbor's trailer and how they probably had a dream of owning a small piece of land where they could sit on their small front porch and watch the sun rise over Mount Sentinel in the morning and set over the Bitterroot Mountains in the evening. But they can't anymore. Their view is gone, obstructed by poorly built two-story craftsman style houses. The sad part is that we, living in one of those poorly built two-story craftsman style houses can't watch the sun rise or set either. The windows are in the wrong place so instead Krista and I stood in the muddy semi-snow covered alley and watched the sky turn yellow, orange, pink, red and then eventually deep dark blue and then black.