Walking home from the bus station for the last time on Thursday--before we moved to the 'pseudo burbs'--I tried to capture as much detail in my surroundings as possible. This is how I say goodbye to certain chapters of my life. I want to remember everything--so I can tell my kids about the time their daddy and I lived a stone's throw from the wrong side of the tracks.
A still operational railroad separates our apartment from the part of our neighborhood where most people would not feel safe walking alone at night. There are gunshots in the distance. But we are on the other side of the tracks, so we don't worry about that.
The gravel trail from the bus station to my street is littered with broken beer bottles, stale dog shit, graffiti, and the occasional discarded syringe. The houses, or more accurately broken down shacks, that line the trail are sad and mostly vacant. Most of the windows have been broken long ago--giving the house a classic "haunted-house" vibe. Tattered drapes blow in the wind through the shattered glass. Cardboard seals the holes in the structures that people still call home.
As I took my final walk home from the bus station, I admitted to myself that although this is the end of an era--I would probably not be nostalgic for this walk anytime soon. That's when I sneezed.
"GOD BLESS YOU!" a faceless woman shouted from inside one of the disheveled, vandalized houses.
Surprised, I felt a grin spread across my face. "THANK YOU!" I shouted back, as I continued my walk.
That's when I changed my mind. Maybe I would miss this place after all.
(Okay, so this is sneeze post number three... )