A Return To Small
After four years of experimenting with city life, country life, and everything in between—we finally found our Goldilocks home. It’s tiny, it’s cozy, and it fits this chapter of our life juuust right.
This wasn’t an overnight discovery. It was a winding road of trial, error. But now, with the redwoods still nearby and the energy of town just down the street, we’ve landed exactly where we’re meant to be.
The early chaos of getting settled…Hi, Goose.
What Led Us Here
Will and I were newly married and looking to move out of San Francisco. We went north, to be closer to family, and ended up in a rural village called Lagunitas. Nestled in the redwood forest, the air was fresh and the sky was clear. But after 3 years, it felt like we were forcing a country, car-centric lifestyle that didn’t actually align with my values of sustainable living. Maybe if we had been growing our own food and not using the car for work, that would be one thing. But we were driving 20 minutes into town most days, and commuting twice as far on others.
So we set our sights on the nearest town of Fairfax, CA. It’s a small town of 7,000 people, on the border of suburban and rural sections of Marin County. After a 6-month trial period in a furnished rental near downtown Fairfax, I learned an important lesson. I didn’t just want to be in Fairfax, I wanted to be walking distance from downtown. This was the key to unlocking the city lifestyle that I loved, while still living immersed in trees and trails nearby.
Finding Our New Space
When our six-month rental came to an end, reality set in: the Fairfax rental market was bleak. Every listing I found was either a giant house with a giant price tag or a cramped, dingy space that felt more like a compromise than a home.
I chased every lead. I texted friends of friends. I even entertained the idea of settling for a place that made my stomach sink. With each dead end, the vision I had for our next chapter felt like it was more of a pipe dream.
And then — there it was. The cutie patooty mini home I had seen months earlier still sitting on the market, unsold. I wondered — What if, instead of buying, the owners could be convinced to rent? It was a long shot, but what did I have to lose?
So I sent the email. The realtor replied. There were a few rounds of back and forth, some waiting, and a bit of nail-biting. And then, with just days left on our lease, the owners took the house off the market and agreed to rent it to us.
This cutie patootie house is less than 900 square feet, and we are loving it! There are a few essential elements that make 900 square space feel like ample space for us – it has great indoor/outdoor flow from the kitchen to a private back patio. There is a small garage to fit our bikes and outdoor gear. And there is a detached studio that can act as our dual home office and guest room.
Tiny Home Living
Will and I actually started our journey in the smallest of spaces. We lived together in my San Francisco studio apartment for a year before we moved north. I lived in the that studio for seven years and it was some of the happiest time in my life.
When people hear “under 900 square feet,” they usually imagine sacrifice—less privacy, fewer belongings, constant bumping into each other. But to me, living small feels like abundance. More free time. More peace of mind. More space in my brain because there’s less stuff to manage.
I think back to reading The Big Tiny by Dee Williams, her memoir about ditching the big-house model and building a tiny home from scratch. One of her big realizations was that living small pushed her out into her community more. That idea stuck with me.
And now, here we are. The smaller our home, the bigger our lives feel. We spend less energy maintaining, and more energy connecting—with neighbors, with nature, with each other. It turns out that shrinking your square footage can actually expand your world.
The Upsides
Living in a small home means we will be spending less time cleaning, organizing, and otherwise maintaining the home, and therefore we can be out experiencing our community more.
Our environmental impact is measurably lighter. We use less gas to heat the home, and less electricity to light it. Our small fridge and pantry makes us monitor our food better and leads to less food waste. We also need less furniture to furnish the home, so our consumer footprint did not increase; overall it decreased.
We are also saving money. If we tried to live in the same size house as we had out in the country, we would pay a lot more in housing costs. What we are sacrificing in space is outweighed by the added convenience and engagement of being walking distance from a lively downtown.
A bite-sized home means that we have a strong understanding of what is physically in our space. It creates a mental clarity of what we have and also what we don’t have. I won’t spend an hour looking for that tool I was sure I owned, because it’s just easier to keep track of your stuff when there is less of it.
The Downside?
Sure, it’s not all sunshine. We’re still testing if morning showers wake June. And yes, there will be moments when Will and I both need quiet for work calls and there’s nowhere to hide. But honestly? Beyond these quirks, there’s not much to complain about. The trade-offs are worth it a hundred times over.
Looking Ahead
I tried out minimalism in a larger home, and sure, it was possible, but it’s not the same. In a larger home, I kept the rooms intentionally spare, but I didn’t keep them empty. The truth is, big spaces invite more stuff, and more stuff demands more attention. A small space forces you to prioritize. Every item has to earn its place, which makes the practice of minimalism both sharper and more rewarding.
In the end, this “little, tiny house” (June’s words) isn’t just a place to live—it’s a lifestyle reset. Less square footage, more clarity. Fewer things, more freedom. An act of rebellion against the bigger-is-better Western mentality. And a daily reminder that abundance doesn’t come from what we own, but from how we live.
For now, we’re soaking up the coziness, the walkability, and the joy of knowing that small really can feel expansive. And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way.
