I was just now looking at Facebook and seeing a post from Sunset Beach, a small area where I lived one summer, for 3 months only. Only 3 months. That’s it. But what an impression and lasting memory those three months have meant to me. My sister and I went to an open house this weekend to see the first house I lived in (Westholme Drive). Built in 1958 we were the first people to live there. We moved from there in 1967 into our next house on Campmeeting Road! 57 years ago. Talk about memories. The people that bought the Westholme Drive house from us have lived there all this time. They died last year so it’s the kids that are selling it. Kids, you know, in their 60’s, like me. But anyway, they didn’t change anything! Even the original aluminum windows are still there with the marble window sills. The kitchen cabinets were the same, and in great condition! No dishwasher even. Our bedrooms and closet doors, same same. Might have been a couple bathroom updates but we think the tub, sink and medicine cabinet were all the same. The basement had the same tile floor and paneled walls. And everything is in great condition. My sister spotted a rock that my mom would have brought up from Virginia that was in one of the flower beds. Of course we wanted to buy it, but neither of us have $425,000 for a house with no dishwasher. Okay, neither of us has $425,000 for a house with a dishwasher.
When my childhood friends Ellen and Jennifer were here a few weeks ago, we did the childhood loop of our houses remembering all the times we were at each other’s houses. But the house I’m referring to with these girls was the next house we lived in, the Campmeeting road house. The Campmeeting Road house looks NOTHING like when we lived there. Nothing like it. So the first house exactly the same, the second nothing!
I don’t know what any of this means, but it has come to my attention that I have not been blogging. When I mentioned the other day, when asked about it, that I had nothing to say, I also said “when did that ever stop me” – realizing that in the past I would just sit at the computer and see what came out of my head onto the page. And that’s how this started today.
I’ve lived in a lot of places. Too many. I am jealous of people that live in one house all their lives. Barb recently told me that we are supposed to be planning our next life now, at the end of this life, although I feel like I still have a lot of life to live, but there are definitely things I will do differently next time. I have to admit I have been saying to myself “next life,,,this…” but now, since talking to Barb, I’ve written it down.
I want to be a girl again and meet my husband in 2nd grade and be settled on that. And since that will be settled I will focus on school work and not boys next time. I want to have all my same childhood friends. I want to be an architect. I want to meet all my same college friends in college again, the whole lot of them, all of 4th floor Scranton Hall. And we will all be friends with our husbands and kids and go on vacations together, like those TV show friends of couples that hang out together. And finish college, and marry my 2nd grade boyfriend, and live in a house that we will live in for all of our adult lives with our children who will come home to visit at the same home they grew up in. I will never move, never divorce, never even think about it. And we will live in Europe. France maybe. Mountains AND beach. Maybe I’ll like skiing next time. And I will speak several languages, because I will have grown up on the boarder of various countries. French, German, English, Spanish. I told my sister this and that I wanted to have the same siblings, although if having my same parents they would have to agree to some serious therapy before agreeing to be parents again. But my sister said no way. She wants a break from us and our parents. LOL. I guess she had enough of my mother and us and needs a life off, or two. Whatever. She’ll change her mind in the “inbetween” life and beg us to come back into the fold. I just think it’s the oldest child syndrome. They hate anyone that comes after them. They hate sharing. She can come back the baby next time.
I think it’s fun to think about this stuff, but not sure how healthy it is to be planning something next and not taking full advantage of what life I have left to live. Knowing that I have lived so much so far, I mean in countless number of homes and places, and even 3 months at the beach can have such an impression on my life, on the whole of my life, and even one day can be significant. I remember a lot of “days” or moments of the day anyway, so each moment could be significant. When I walk up and down these city streets, when I’m not cursing our mayor and state of affairs, I am remembering all the places I’ve worked, all the friends I’ve made at various jobs, friends I’ve met at the various bars and restaurants that are no longer there, all the stores I shopped in, that are no longer there, and the way things used to be. I am grateful for those memories because the city now is a shit hole but I know that it wasn’t always like this. Not to be cheeky but there is a lot of talk about “people that look like me” – you hear it – and I will say there is NOONE in this town that looks like me. And I’m not talking color, I’m talking working people. I see very very few people that look like they are coming or going to work, in an office. And when I do they are not my age. Although once in awhile I will see someone my age. Typically we smile at each other because we know we are an anomaly. In the old days you’d recognize people who lived here too. But I don’t even see that. It is so sad to me. Talk about crying. But on other days, when they are setting up for an event, like this weekend, when there is so much activity getting ready for Picklesburgh, and it’s going on right outside my building, I feel pretty jazzed and kinda cool that I live here and the excitement and energy level is pumped and then I get pumped too. But other than an event, the energy level is horrible. It’s sad and it’s past time to move.
I’m working three days a week now at my little law firm. I know, I know, I said never would I work three days but I don’t mind. It keeps my mind off of myself and it’s a couple bucks and I always knew I’d have to work into retirement. It’s a lot better for me than I ever thought I would say. Our office is moving to Mt. Lebanon in a couple months. Which won’t be as convenient as walking four blocks, but at least I won’t have to worry about getting shot on my way to or from work. At least I don’t think I will. I guess that can happen anywhere. I plan on breaking my lease then and getting the hell out of dodge after my company moves. I signed another year’s lease here but I just don’t think I can do it, especially after the firm moves. And I have too many memories to make to stay in a place that makes me sad. I love my apartment but outside of it, well, its not getting any better.
Mt. Lebanon here I come!!
xoxoxo
Blog more, blog more, blog more!!! I miss your thoughts!!! 🙂
Very nice!!!!