When I heard that my old friend Felicia Ballos was living on a converted school bus with her husband and son, I went to her website, where she’d written: “We have given up the jobs that hinder us from giving to the world in the ways we would like ... Instead we have entered a culture of trading, of bartering, of mutual help among like minds and souls.”
I sent her a message and asked her if I could come for a visit. When I arrived at Ray’s parents’ house in upstate New York, where their bus was parked, Felicia had been up since 6 a.m., taking care of their son, Bowie, who’s not quite two years old. She introduced me to her husband, Ray Roy. He had just learned how to weld, and I could see how excited he was to say, “If you’ll excuse me, I have some welding to get back to.”
Felicia met Ray when he was touring with a performance art group, driving around in a converted bus that ran on vegetable oil. Within seven weeks Felicia and Ray were living together in an apartment in the East Village. Ray became the co-owner of a different vegetable oil bus, and when he and Felicia were served an eviction notice (they’d been subletting illegally), they moved into the bus. They were like a couple of kids setting up camp in a backyard tent. “The sparseness of the bus and its flexibility was very seductive,” Felicia says. “We had what we needed and realized that we didn’t need much.” They believe that Bowie was conceived that week.
After 10 days they were allowed back into their apartment, but something had changed. They wanted to keep moving. Ray sold his share of the bus, and they bought their own. The first incarnation of their very own bus had no running water. They stored their food on two teeny carts and fashioned a closet out of bamboo. They kept the perishable food in a cooler. Ice was one of their biggest expenses.
Little by little they made improvements. They now have a working kitchen, running water, electricity generated by rechargable batteries, and a composting toilet. It’s located next to the bed, on the back of the bus. There’s a curtain for when guests are on board.
“Attachment to objects has become almost obsolete,” says Felicia. Everything that makes the cut must serve a purpose: tools, essential clothing, a box of sewing and craft materials, toys as long as they aid in development in some way, computer and video equipment. There’s a kitchen nook, made out of a church pew cut in half. They both agree that having the stove is what makes it feel most like a home. It’s just like the one that Ray’s parents have, and he loves that there’s a clock on it, a small domestic detail that roots them in time and space.
At the time of my visit, Ray was working as an electrician on movie sets, but money was tight. “There is always the challenge of trying to find the positive when surrounded by and living in poverty, and finding the grounding that this entire adventure demands from us,” says Felicia, “because going bananas is the other option.” No matter how hard I pressed them on whether they missed having hot showers and separate rooms and a drawer full of Scotch tape and thumbtacks, they insisted that they couldn’t imagine going back to the way they were living before.
Parents of young children get more time with them if they work from home.Photo credit: Canva
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Giphy from The Blacklist.
We could start a rumor.
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.