We've been living in the new house for almost a month now, but we still had keys to the old apartment. Techically the lease on it ran out about two and a half hours ago. So yesterday I went to pick up the last of our mail and say goodbye, while still legally allowed to do so.
I may be the only one of the three of us who still has mixed emotions about giving up the apartment. While the new place is an upgrade in all ways, there's something about the old place I can't shake.
The neighbourhood was going to hell. It was becoming a slum. It had its own wanna-be street gang. Roaches were making steady inroads. I was beginning to lose all patience with the elevators, my neighbors, and the near constant roadwork outside my window.
But all that was at the end.
I think what it comes down to is that it was home. My home. The first place I've felt secure and safe since I was five. I was happy there.
Moving and unpacking, you discover things you had long forgotten you had.� It was like looking into a whole different era.� Artifacts like a tattered wallet that an old mate I hope I never see again gave me.� Journals that I don't remember writing that scare the crap out of me. Old clothes that don't fit.�
Old personae that don't fit.
So this is Hiker as he used to be, all lithe and boy-toyish.� I gave up drawing that vest long ago.� And I can no longer fit into those short cut-offs.
I am not that angsty twentysomething anymore.� I'm an old nostaglic thirtysomething and I would rather remember the happier things.� I said my goodbyes, handed in my keys.
Now it's only memories.
Only memories, fading memories,Fading into dull tableaux...
