Goodbye, Apartment

Saturday, 10 September 2011

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. -Anatole France

Is it odd to mourn the loss of an apartment? A home that, in every measurable way, is not as good as the one we moved to today?

So long, hilariously-named intersection.

Our new home has a fireplace, central air, a two-car garage, three bedrooms, a washer and dryer, a yard, a playroom – even a gazebo, for Christ’s sake! – all things that our apartment did not have.

While moving a piece of furniture from point A to point B, one of my friends said, “I bet you’re not gonna miss this apartment, are you?” I hesitated to answer.

It’s true, though: I won’t miss living less than a block from the highway. I won’t miss the loud neighbors. I won’t miss sharing my walls and floor with strangers. I won’t miss having to show up with $2.50 worth of quarters every time I needed to do a load of laundry. And I certainly won’t miss the cramped space.

But there are things I will miss.

The first Monday after we moved in to our apartment, I carried Owen with me as I walked downstairs to get the mail, and he stood next to me as I used the key to open the mailbox. I told Jennifer I was saddened that getting the mail wouldn’t be like it was at our previous home. There, he and I walked down to the end of the driveway and he opened the mailbox himself and pulled out the mail. But now, I didn’t think he would be able to figure out which mailbox was ours. And he certainly wouldn’t be able to figure out the key.

Boy, I was wrong.

The very next day, he walked right to our mailbox, and within a week he had mastered the key. Over the years, he and I made a game out of it, taking different staircases down and back up, using the elevator, kicking a ball down the hallway as we went and, eventually, letting Isla hold the keys as we walked down.

So I will miss getting the mail.

I’ll also miss the coziness of the apartment in winter – with windows on only one side, and with two floors below us, the walls and floor were warm even on the coldest days.

I’ll also miss Owen’s bedroom. He’d had a beautiful bedroom before, and I have every assurance he’ll have a beautiful one again, but I was happy that my wife went in and painted his room before we even spent our first night in the apartment. His calendars hung on the wall, his books were aligned nicely, and a solar system model was suspended from the ceiling. Owen’s little kitchen was set up in one corner, and his chalkboard in the other. Owen affixed numbers to the outside of the bedrooms and bathrooms – his room was number one.

This apartment was also our home while I took guitar lessons, while Jennifer went on a trip to Seattle, when we voted for the first and second time, when we visited Duluth, when we (re)started college at St. Kate’s and Hamline, when Owen attended preschool and kindergarten, started first grade, and put his first couple of baby teeth under the pillow. It’s where we lived while I hosted a TV Show, when we went on several nature walks with Happy Trails, and while we explored the cities – including fossil hunts, a trip to the planetarium, trips to Crosby Lake, Como Lake, and Fort Snelling, visits to the Model Train Museum, the Transportation Museum, the State Capitol, and, most recently, the Foshay Tower.

It is also where we were living when I finally achieved my goal of officiating a wedding and my other goal of viewing every Hitchcock-directed film. More importantly, it was while living in our little apartment that we said goodbye to our cat, Oliver. And, of course…

Sunday, 11 September 2011

My wife snapped this photo of Isla, standing in the now empty living room of our apartment. Last night, for the first time, we slept in our new home – it was only Isla’s 3rd time in her 410 days not sleeping in the apartment. Today we spent our last few hours at the apartment, cleaning and gathering up what little remained. Isla napped in the bedroom one more time.

This is where our baby was conceived. And this very spot is where, nine months later, she was born. And where, one year later, she celebrated her first birthday.

Goodbye, Apartment. Thanks for the memories.