Her name was Minnie, my faithful companion in homelessness. When we first became homeless and started living out of it, my youngest was only one and half years old. My oldest was only about 9 years old then. To my youngest, the rv was home. It wasn't until we came to my friend's house did I realize just how much living out of the rv had affected my daughter until she said "I don't like it in here. I want to go back to OUR house, the rv." That’s when it hit me that her memories of what “home” is are based on the three of us living out an old Minnie Winnebago....more