By Essence B. Scott

Being in a small space is something that no one should ever go through. Small spaces are not conducive to work, play, or relaxation. Living in a motel as a teenager, I was always on edge. There wasn’t any space for me to be by myself, unless I went outside. And that’s exactly what I did — I went outside. Being outside by myself with my CD player and books meant I could just unwind for a few minutes. Being in that small space was tortuous. When my family moved from the Red Roof Inn on Route 1 South to our apartment on Connecticut Avenue in Hamilton, N.J., everything was perfect. There was so much more room to move around, I couldn’t believe it. After spending years in small rooms that could barely hold everything we owned (stored in large coolers and bags), moving to Connecticut Avenue was an oasis filled with cool, refreshing water that I could drink from and swim in. The first night there was beautiful. There was so much more space. All of us didn’t have to sleep in the same room like we had done for years. The first night, we all slept in the same room because we didn’t have any beds, just a couch. I remember the smell of my mom attacking the place with Lysol cleaning supplies. My brother had gone to the HomeFront teen program that first night, and so it was just my mom, my sister and I hanging out and talking. We made a pallet on the floor. We didn’t have a television that first night, but the fact that we would be a little more comfortable from now on made things much more tolerable. Later on, we got beds. My sister and I marveled at all the room we had and how great we felt. Finally, a whole bed to sleep in! At the Red Roof, there was one bed that I shared with my mom and sister. My brother slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. We had more options for food. When you’re homeless, you can only eat and drink so much because you might not have a refrigerator to keep food cool or a microwave to warm things up. At the Red Roof, we had both, but not all the rooms were like that. We didn’t have home-cooked meals like pork chops or meat loaf. We ordered pizza or went to McDonald’s if things were going well, but that was very rare. We couldn’t keep ice cream cold in the mini-fridge, so that was never an option. The first month living on Connecticut Avenue was surreal. I was enrolled in the local high school and reconnected with some old friends. I made a few new ones, as well. I had a neighborhood where I could wander about, and I began walking everywhere. I got to sit outside when the weather was nice and I had friends who lived near me who visited often. Generally, I was much happier. I finally had space to myself to do the things I wanted to do. I kept in touch with HomeFront (I met them when I was at the Pine Motel in Bordentown in 2004) and still went to different activities that were offered over the course of the week. Being in a bigger space made me feel safer. It made me feel safer because I had a little more privacy. And even when my sister was in the room we shared, listening to her music out loud, I didn’t mind. Sometimes we talked about different things, but mostly we were in our own heads in the same space. I had my headphones and notebook, and she had her music and books; or we watched television. Things were OK. We got our first computers on Connecticut Avenue. I remember being really happy to get my computer, a MacBook, and learning how to get it up and running. My mom got a PC for the family, and I helped her, but with my limited computer knowledge, I received a lot of guidance from technical support. It was fun working the computers. The first month in a new place was equal parts exciting and terrifying. Sometimes I wondered if we would end up in a place like the Red Roof again. Other times I thought about other things. I don’t live on Connecticut Avenue anymore, but I won’t ever be able to forget the time I spent there, particularly the first month. An apartment has more space to move around and store things. There are opportunities for privacy in the apartment — these opportunities are not available in a small, crowded motel room. Depending on how much stuff you have when you’re in the motel room, the space there will automatically go to holding your items. There is no room for a child to play, for a teenager to carve a space of her own from. It is a sad place to live for an extended period of time.