This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation between writer Jennifer Jane and her mom, Jane Post. It has been edited for length and clarity.

After moving out of the home I loved and lived in for 31 years, it took me a few years to settle on a housing situation that suited me. I was used to living alone and liked it, but my home became too much work and responsibility once I reached my mid-70s, and I needed something different.

I lived with a friend for a few months, then moved across the country from Florida to New York in 2020 to live with my older daughter for a couple of years. However, neither of those arrangements was the right fit for me.

I call my small mobile home ‘The Teapot’

I left New York and moved back to Florida without a plan. My younger daughter offered me a mobile home on her property to stay in while I figured it out. I moved in and didn’t move out. It felt just right. It is small and easy for me to take care of. It’s the perfect size to fit the things I hold dear. I call it “The Teapot.”

I have always loved teapots. I once read a story about a retired Colonel who bought a very tiny cottage in England that had belonged to a little old lady who used it as a tearoom for walkers that wandered by. It was so small that it had just one tiny table and two chairs. The Colonel said it was like living in a teapot. I recalled this story when I stepped into the mobile home, and I knew I had at last found my home sweet home…The Teapot.

I like nearly everything about living in my Teapot. Old people often have balance issues… if I lose my balance, I always have a nearby wall, table, or counter to bounce off of. The only thing I don’t like is that there aren’t enough electrical outlets.

I share my home with my animals, and everything I love is close by

I share my little home with a cast of characters: Penny, the tubby brown mystery mutt mix; Choccy, the chihuahua who has difficulty walking due to old age; Little Thing, a three-legged tiny chihuahua mix; Pinkie, the cat; Agatha Raisin, the bantam chicken; Sarose, her evilness, a seabrite chicken; Jaeger, the barn cat; and then there’s me, the human who does their bidding. My animals bring a huge amount of joy into my small space.

My home makes me feel happy, even in difficult times

I was very ill recently, and all I could manage was to feed all my animals and get them in and out, then I had to go back to bed, too sick to read or watch a movie. As I lay there, I really felt as if the Teapot was giving me comfort like a warm hug. I could look around and see, with one glance, all the things I hold dear that bring me happy memories.

When you get old, the list of things you’ll never get to do, have, or own might seem never-ending, and past memories are your lifeline. Every memory I’ve fit into my little home brings me happiness and comfort.

Living in a small space is not for everyone, but for me, the Teapot is heaven on Earth. I’m in my 80s now. My younger daughter is nearby if I need anything or want company, but I am able to live independently in a way that works for me. I can have everything that’s important to me at this time of my life — family, freedom from the responsibilities and demands of home ownership, my animals, privacy, peace, and most everything I love at my fingertips.