I knew I would be going to pick the child I nanny up from a park this afternoon. I knew the park well because I actually lived a few blocks away for a year when I first moved to the city.
What I didn’t know was how I was going to react emotionally to being there again. I walked down the subway platform with a sudden rush of emotion. It was like I had just seen my ex. Only it was a subway platform! Then, as I neared the exit to the street, knowing the familiar views I would see, I was gripped with a sudden excitement that was almost like trepidation.
I rounded the corner behind a wall of construction to see the local bar across the street from me looking untouched since I left it, save a nice new coat of paint on the wall outside with beautiful writing scrolling across it. I could’ve kept walking to my destination but something stayed me: My old apartment was calling me.
I remember when I first moved there, in the dead of winter, there was vacant lot across the street from my door. A homeless man had set up camp there. Now as I peered across the street, an apartment building stood towering over me, just above the BQE. I wonder what happened to the man.
The door with the ugly green awning was unchanged! I was amazed and gratified by this. I was also grateful that I did not have access to the inside. I knew I would be upset with the changes in the rooms. Next to door however now stands a restaurant that used to be boarded up and unused. It seems pleasant.
It continues to baffle me how many emotions are attached to the place I lived in not 4 years ago. I lived there with my roommates Michelle and David, who I recall also underwent many changes in that apartment. Many pivotal things occurred in my life during that time.
I experienced grief after death on a personal level for the first time. My parents phoned me to inform me that my childhood cat Pepper had passed away. I also experienced the very sudden death of my grandfather. I remember looking in the bathroom mirror and breaking down one morning as I thought about how unfair it was that he was gone. My roommate David was home that day. I remember him offering me alcohol but it wasn’t to get drunk. It was his favorite kind. I felt as though he was sharing something very special with me. I felt cared for.
I experienced my first taste of romance where the guy actually had the intention of pursuing me. Up until that time I had only been interested in best friends who ended up disappearing from my life. But as we walked up Kent to the water both of us began to fill this unspoken space between us. I filled it with words. I was nervous and didn’t stop talking. He listened. It meant the world to me.
I smile when I think of that childlike flirtation and how terrified we were of how we felt. I remember the beginning and ending as though they transpired in one day. They may have as well since he left Williamsburg overseas within a few days of our sudden realization. That was part of the drama of the romance: knowing I may never see him again forced me to reconcile with myself that I might actually miss him more than I first had thought I would.
I made my friends at my church who were neighbors in Williamsburg. I spent a lot of time with Jensen and his roommates at their apartment. I would come over and play Settlers of Catan. David (different David) had me over for tea a few times (he made the best chai!). That also felt like an end and a beginning as Jensen and Amy began to date, Samuel moved out, and David moved in, and then Jensen moved out and married Amy, and finally David moved. So many quick hellos and goodbyes.
Though many of my favorite memories were not the crazy, life changing events. It was the day-to-day things that became so normal that I truly cherish. I remember David used to always leave his boots by the door. When he moved out, I missed his boots. Michelle and I would have these deep emotional conversations in the kitchen (one of us would cry) that always led both of us back to our Creator in the midst of the emotional turmoil we were experiencing. I remember I had bars on my windows so I had to sleep with my door open in the summer so that I could feel the AC unit from the kitchen. I remember rock music blaring and art spread out on the kitchen table as David worked.
I remember meeting my roommate David for the first time. I had never lived with a boy other than my father. I was afraid that I might develop feelings for him. He somehow passed my litmus test, which is kind of hilarious now that I think back on it. I met him at a place that had those old school arcade games and he was playing one. I was annoyed because he was so engrossed in the game that he didn’t even look up at me. And then I thought, “He’s a nerd! Perfect!” He’s actually way more relational than what I first perceived. What I came to learn was that David is one of the kindest and most generous men I’ve ever met.
I used to come home and talk his ear off. He is 5 years older than me so he was actually the age I am now when he gave me advice. I thought he was so wise. He was an artist and I admired his work. I’m a feisty achiever who wants all my dreams to just happen at once so you can imagine how I was at 23. I was upset that I had so many passions and they didn’t all fit into one pattern. He was the first person to point out that it didn’t have to make sense to me all at once.
I remember telling him all about the men who I was so confused were interested in me and how it terrified me and asking him all about his dating life. He took it like a champ though I’m sure his ears were bleeding. It took me many years to learn how to keep my thoughts to myself. I’m still working on it.
It’s just like God to move me to a part of Brooklyn that developed the most rapidly in a short period of time. It’s like a metaphor for what happened to me in that apartment and in New York. I was thinking that as I walked down Union toward McCaren Park. All of these buildings I didn’t recognize had sprouted so quickly almost like the growth I’ve seen in myself since that special year.
I realized laughingly to myself that the park that I used to run in once in a while was actually much bigger than I had originally thought. I didn’t traverse very far in my little area of comfort. I was new to the city and didn’t know anyone. The L entrance being right outside my door meant that I didn’t really have to get to know the city. I just went to work, church, and home.
I think part of my fear of exploring was that at the time I didn’t have a smart phone. I don’t think smart phones were super rare at the time. I was just happy with my flip phone. I would go to mapquest and draw out maps of where I was going and that’s how I would get around. I had gotten lost many times. I would get very overwhelmed.
Michelle and David moved out before me. David moving out was the hardest on me. So much of my experience of that apartment was the two of us discussing who could be loud when and at what times since we both worked part time jobs at restaurants and I love to sing. I tried to adapt to my first roommates’ disappearance for a while. But I was still young and not ready to be on a lease. A subletter moved in for a few months and never paid me for utilities and apparently skipped town without paying rent (my landlord wasn’t on top of things). One thing led to another and I moved to Chelsea (briefly) before finding a home in Astoria only year after I had arrived in Williamsburg.
I arrived at the park and picked my child up from skateboarding camp. I look back toward Union Ave and tell him, “I used to live a little ways down that street when I first move to the city.” He shrugs this new piece of information off like an uncomfortable sweater. I decide to keep my thoughts to myself. Until I share them with you, dear reader. Remember I’m still learning.
