“Mum, this bathroom has so much space.”

David announced it the moment we opened the cabin door on the Spirit of Tasmania. He’s four years old. My husband Stu and I looked at each other and smiled.

Most people probably wouldn’t describe a ferry cabin bathroom as spacious. But the thing is — he was right.

For the past five months, we’ve been living in a caravan. Compared to our caravan bathroom, the one on the Spirit felt enormous.

What struck me wasn’t the comment itself. It was how normal it felt to him.

“I thought the biggest lessons would come from the places we visited. Instead, the biggest lessons have come from living in a small space together.”

Before this trip, David’s whole world was a four-bedroom, two-bathroom house. He’s four — big spaces are all he’s ever known. Yet after five months on the road, his perspective has shifted.

And if I’m honest, so has mine.

“I thought the biggest lessons would come from the places we visited. Instead, the biggest lessons have come from living in a small space together.”

The caravan has given us some incredible memories. It has also given us some tough days.

Like the time we were free camping in Tasmania and the sun disappeared for days.

Our batteries were running low. It happened to be one of the coldest stretches of weather we’d experienced. I remember standing outside freezing, wondering when we’d see the sun again.

Looking back now, we laugh about it.

The boys don’t feel the cold the way I do. When I complain, one or both of them will usually grab my hand to warm it up. It’s such a small thing, but it’s one of the moments I’ll remember most from this trip.

Living this way means there aren’t many places to hide. You spend a lot of time together. You learn each other’s habits, strengths and quirks. You get to know one another on a much deeper level.

Right now our caravan is parked in Torquay in Victoria, right on the beach. We can lie in bed and watch the surfers. It’s a simple thing, but it feels pretty special.

“Why are we making plans to build a bigger house when the things making us happiest have nothing to do with the size of the home?”

Five months ago, we thought we knew what our future looked like. We own a small beachfront house in Bowen, at the top of the Whitsundays. Before leaving, we had plans drawn up to add another level and more bathrooms. It seemed like the obvious next step.

Now I’m not so sure.

A few weeks ago we were camped at Bridport in Tasmania — the van parked right on the beach, a fire pit out the front, walking to the laundry when we needed to dry clothes. We were happy. Really happy.

It made me stop and ask: what if the better option is less house and more life?

More time on the boat.

More time with family.

More involvement in the local community.

More experiences. More memories.

The trip isn’t over yet, but one thing is already clear.

“We’re coming home with a very dif erent idea of what ‘enough’ looks like.”

“Why are we making plans to build a bigger house when the things making us happiest have nothing to do with the size of the home?”

READ MORE FROM THE JOURNAL

Digging into Life

Home Was a Place I’d Never Been Before

Home Was a Place I’d Never Been Before

I was on my way home from a work trip when someone asked me a simple question.
“So, where are you flying home to?”

Read moreabout Home Was a Place I’d Never Been Before

The One Thing I’d Tell Anyone Before They Leave on a Lap of Australia

The One Thing I’d Tell Anyone Before They Leave on a Lap of Australia

Everyone says the first three months of caravanning are the hardest. They were right. Here's what no one tells you about learning a completely new way of living.

Read moreabout The One Thing I’d Tell Anyone Before They Leave on a Lap of Australia

The Milestone I Missed

The Milestone I Missed

What a bike ride without training wheels taught me about parenthood.

Read moreabout The Milestone I Missed