Sometimes I swear this blog exists purely to give me something to do when I can't sleep. I've tossed and turned more than an ice skater tonight. Times like these I always think, I should call people on the West Coast-- they'll be up! It's pretty handy, and it's always lovely to reach out West.
I had a dream last night about moving with my family... and how this J.Crew sportin', SUV-drivin family was going to tear down our old house in Maryland. This got me thinking: Would it be crazy to go to that old house and ask the current owners if I could just look around for a few minutes? I've been thinking about that house non-stop tonight for some reason. Would that be crazy, if I just showed up at my old house and asked to come in? Would they mind if I ran my hands over the kitchen tiles, which my mom picked out years ago, and would they shuffle uncomfortably if I leaned my arms against my old bedroom wall & daydream out the window like I used to?
When I was 10 I locked myself out of the house a lot (as a scatter-brained key-less latchkey kid) so I'd crawl back into the house through a bathroom window-- feet first, to avoid plunging into the toilet directly underneath said window. When I was obsessed with my weight (as a voracious latchkey kid who, when left to her own devices, would eat three dinners in one night), I'd hide my favorite junk food, Snackwells Fat Free Devils Food Cake (ick!) at the foot of the basement stairs-- in a rusty detached cabinet, hoping that the creepiness of the unfinished, dimly-lit, dank basement would keep me from my vice (it didn't).
I clearly couldn't fit in through the bathroom window anymore; but Would the current owners mind, do you think, if I snacked just a little in their basement? Just for nostalgia's sake. I could promise to keep it low-key. I wouldn't make a peep. Quiet as a mouse would be me. The only sound they'd hear would be busy munching... and at the most, maybe a happy squeak or two.
I had a dream last night about moving with my family... and how this J.Crew sportin', SUV-drivin family was going to tear down our old house in Maryland. This got me thinking: Would it be crazy to go to that old house and ask the current owners if I could just look around for a few minutes? I've been thinking about that house non-stop tonight for some reason. Would that be crazy, if I just showed up at my old house and asked to come in? Would they mind if I ran my hands over the kitchen tiles, which my mom picked out years ago, and would they shuffle uncomfortably if I leaned my arms against my old bedroom wall & daydream out the window like I used to?
When I was 10 I locked myself out of the house a lot (as a scatter-brained key-less latchkey kid) so I'd crawl back into the house through a bathroom window-- feet first, to avoid plunging into the toilet directly underneath said window. When I was obsessed with my weight (as a voracious latchkey kid who, when left to her own devices, would eat three dinners in one night), I'd hide my favorite junk food, Snackwells Fat Free Devils Food Cake (ick!) at the foot of the basement stairs-- in a rusty detached cabinet, hoping that the creepiness of the unfinished, dimly-lit, dank basement would keep me from my vice (it didn't).
I clearly couldn't fit in through the bathroom window anymore; but Would the current owners mind, do you think, if I snacked just a little in their basement? Just for nostalgia's sake. I could promise to keep it low-key. I wouldn't make a peep. Quiet as a mouse would be me. The only sound they'd hear would be busy munching... and at the most, maybe a happy squeak or two.
posted by The Huang at 9:28 AM
1 Comments:
... reach out west ... hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmmm?
that was a lovely bit of writing there.. whatever happened to the house? did you go back at all?
I've always had this attachment to old houses - I once made a 5000 mile trip to see a house I'd spent a few years in, simply because I knew I wasn't coming back for a long long time. And the retinue of people who'd been around during my stay - who were still there when I went back - would've moved on. And it just wouldn't be the same.
Perhaps like Yale, without a friendly apartment at HGS letting you on to the 12th floor, or silently eating at Rudy's watching a cold winter's frost?
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