Remembering an old house
The kids who live there now are moving out of my old house on 63rd Street. I went over there today to try to get my stuff back. Pookie went and got some of the old artsy stuff that was in the basement. I lost the number of Ann, who lives in my old room, and Pookie never gave it to me again, so I have been trying to find the right time to go over there and see if anyone's still there.They have my answering machine, a compost bin, hopefully the fence from my garden, and even more hopefully my $60 that Flo owed me from my deposit (?!). There are also apparently cleaning supplies, but they are Matt's. I'm sure of it, cuz they were there when I moved out.
When I first pulled up, I noticed that the grass in the front yard is very tall- unusually so for a house that belongs to one of those landlords who comes over at least twice a week to fix something on the property or fiddle with her plants. I saw the cat perch outside the front window, the tiny dead cactus pot next to what had been Matt's window. I noticed how dirty the front steps were- I think we swept them regularly when I lived there. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. They have the doorbell taped so it stays off. I think we had put in one of those battery operated remote operated doorbells, and it had had a ghost.
I walked around the house a bit and saw that there is stuff in Ann's window. That was such an awesome room- south facing, huge, lots of closet space, a door to the outside...very bright. Didn't look like she was home, but how can you tell? I just left a note and went home.
What struck me when I was there was the memory of the feelings of hope and excitement that we had when we found that house. I had been wanting to start a little intentional community and had put an ad on craig's list to find people. One person stuck with me the whole way, and even though she was a kook, we got the house together. After interviewing extensively for roommates, I found myself living with 3 people with whom I had next-to-nothing in common. Noone worked on the yard with me, anything I said about activism was strange and exotic (even to me- I put pretty much all of my activist energy into that house and lurked on a bunch of lists that whole winter), and the cat tended to puke and poop around the house.
That house burned me on starting houses with people I didn't know, but did that stop me from moving into the Sprout House with an even larger group of strangers? No. That was a mistake. I still believe in and desire to live in intentional community, but I think I would settle for 5 acres of my own on which to raise kids and food. I think I am probably too complicated a person to just move in with people who don't know me, and all of my friends know better than to try to live with me.
posted by mahtin @ 12:07 AM
