My Life and Dreams

Friday, April 3, 2020

February 28, 2015- Our Town-Part 2

Our Apartments

I loved our old apartment. That place is in most of my dreams probably because it felt like home which this one that we’ve been at since October 1993 never really has.

Mom’s parents had lived there since the mid or late 1940s. When her father died in 1967, her mother let Mom and Dad have the place. She moved to her brothers’ farm in South Jersey.

The unit that we lived in had 3 single floor apartments. Dad had lived in the middle one with his family. Mike and I used to sometimes call his mother our grandma-next-door and Mom’s was our grandma-at-the-farm.

Our grandfather had built a small addition on the front of the apartment in which we kept our fridge and a cabinet. This gave us more room in the kitchen which was pretty small.

My parents used to sleep on a hide-a-bed that was in the living room when Mike and I each had our own rooms. Mike was in the small one at first and I was in the bigger one. We had to share the big room once our parents moved into the smaller in 1977 or 1978.

My parents built my brother a room in the basement and I moved into theirs in the early 80s. That sky blue room was my bedroom for a few years. The sliding door closet was so cool. Sometimes I used to hide in there, hugging my Poochie bear and crying when I was very upset about my parents arguing or being picked on at school.

I was so happy when they built me a bigger room in the basement. It had brown paneling and plush dusty rose carpeting. The other section of it was like a living room for Mike and me. Dad still had his little section near the washer and dryer.

Mom’s father had built cabinets that were hanging on the wall. We stored all sorts of things inside of them including games, toys, Tupperware, and other kitchen stuff.

I loved the paneling and carpeting in that apartment. I’m sure that a lot of people would find the former type of décor cheesy, tacky, and very outdated. The township made us tear most of the ground floor paneling down and paint those walls before we moved.

The 3 of us would still be there if Dad hadn’t moved into his mom’s place during and after the divorce in 1992. No, we really should all be living on our own and it’s pathetic that we don’t.

We are now in a two floor, 4 apartment unit on the other side of our very small town. There are 3 other kinds of units in it. I can’t believe that we have been here for 22 years. That is almost as long as we were at the old one.

My room is smaller which sucks. I can’t even really rearrange my furniture in it like I used to enjoy doing occasionally in my basement bedroom. The cellar is small and pretty creepy too. I shouldn’t even be complaining; at least I still have a home.

I can’t picture living anywhere else but in this town. I have been here all of my life. The 75^th anniversary of it is coming up this fall. They are having a big celebration then. I am already anxious about going to it.

A big part of me wants to skip out on it like I did for the 60^th one because of this issue. I was at the 50^th but I don’t really remember much about it. My brother and mother know many people in town but I don’t. I don’t even go to our neighbor’s annual barbecue party with them.