Thursday, July 20, 2017
Here We Are Now
I sometimes go back and read about my time in past apartments. I find them invaluable. They really capture my state of mind. I've composed posts as I was leaving one place, about to move into another. There were many others before I ever started this blog. At least one abode no longer exists, part of an ancient multiplex that was leveled for a higher priced living and retail space. It was right down the street from a cool one screen movie theater that ran mostly independents but also showed THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW every weekend. When the new tenants came in, they were none too pleased with the crowd that filled the streets in the wee hours, possibly re-enacting the movie right under their windows.
Another was a two room garage apartment I lived in several months after I graduated college, and after the break up of an engagement. The only window was in the door. It did have a decent bathroom. There was this red floodlight in the ceiling that doubled as a heat lamp. When you turned it on it bathed the room in what looked like a 1970s horror pic.
I had a roommate once. That was the next place. He was a youth leader and sometimes I would find teenagers asleep on the living room floor when I returned home late. He requested that I not keep beer in the fridge when they were coming. A really great guy, a true mensch. We keep in touch on Facebook. He never married, and seems to be quite fulfilled. He's about to move to St. Augustine.
In 1994 I hopped around from one ill-advised living situation to another: friend's mother's house, then the house in which my mother was working as a nanny, and the oddest of all, the house my grandmother had recently sold (to a woman at her church) after living there for over twenty years. I was now paying rent for the same place I had spent much of my childhood, and later lived in during my senior year of college. It was like some kind of strange joke. There are many stories about all three places, most of which will never be recounted here.
Eventually, I moved in with my mother and grandmother (two separate apartments in the same complex) when I decided to go back to school. Before that I had moved to Atlanta and NYC. In between was a really cool place that was the second floor of a house. Spacious Florida room in front. Very nice wood flooring. Great location. Kitchen sucked, though; you could barely turn around in it.
But here and now we are content in a spacious DiVosta floorplan, not quite thirty years old. We're saving some money. Hopefully we are both a pleasant distraction and a blessing to my MIL. You might think that such a living arrangement may have its red flags, and honestly, there are times when it's a bit restricting and difficult. My wife and I are quiet people who don't require much, and sometimes MIL wants more extroversion and conversation on our part. We do our best. Sometimes the three of us eat dinner together. A great time to verbalize our blessings.
There is a pool. I've been in it exactly once, after some schvitzy yard work. It's silly - we always talk about but never use it. We are always so tired. We work very long hours during the week and by the weekend we're spent. We have been doing a weekly couple's workout every Saturday morning.
The above picture was taken on the night of July 4th. We had a nice, mellow holiday which began with cleaning the bathroom, then lunch and a movie, then strolling around our 'hood. I stopped and thought about the stillness of the moment. Visions and low rumbles of firework displays to the north and south (a few amateur shows close by). It was so peaceful. Even the humidity didn't bother me just then. We were mostly silent during our walk - not awkward silence. Contented. Blessed. One of those calm moments you want to last forever. Seeing the silhouette of my wife on the left of the picture (if you can in fact discern that it is a human shape) might inspire wonder for someone who wasn't there. Who is this? What of her life? I do that with certain images. The scene had to be captured, savored. Looked back on months and years later. A picture of serenity.