As I was getting ready to close the door to my old apartment on Rich Street, some friends who helped me move came down the hall to see if there were any other boxes or things to move. ”We got all we need today, guys.” So I started to close the door, but before I did, I waved my hand to the empty rooms and said, “Goodbye Asshole.”
“Did you just call your apartment asshole?”
Yep. It’s an apt description. For six years, I’ve lived inside an asshole — dirty, dark, surrounded by drug dealers, prostitutes and various down-on-their-luck survivors and not the sort of place you’d throw a party in. Thank goodness I’ve finally gotten myself out of it. If I stayed in there another year, it might’ve killed me.
But I’m not dead yet; not by a long shot.
Now I know a New Peace.
As of last Sunday, I am living in an apartment that is the sort of apartment I’ve wanted to live in ever since I was in my late teens. It’s open and bright and spacious. There are hardwood floors that feel good under my feet and plenty of windows to let in the sunlight and cool breezes. I have a good roommate who is intelligent, creative, considerate, responsible and all around awesome. The neighbors are friendly and polite and say things like, “Hello, how are you today?” and actually mean it. This neighborhood has been described as being a mix between SoHo and Mayberry. So, after years of struggling with my environment (unhappy childhood, unhappy marriage, unhappy divorce, unhappy crappy apartment), I am—for the very first time—living in a place where I feel at peace.
Earlier this morning, it was raining just a bit, a light sprinkle, and I stepped out onto the back porch. My apartment is on the second floor and there’s a large tree in the back yard. As the raindrops hit the tin roof overhanging the porch, I looked at the leaves dance and shimmy in the early morning summer shower. I reached out to grab hold of a leaf—to feel its veins and texture—and was caught in the moment. I was awash with a sense of joy and gratitude for existing in that moment. To be able to step outside from my kitchen onto my porch and to touch a leaf on a branch swaying in the summer breeze… there are billions of people who are not able to know the feeling of peace and contentment that I felt at that moment holding that leaf.
I’m not proud of what I felt but I am very thankful for it; I know how special and rare moments like that can be. I have much in my life to be grateful for and that’s why I’m writing this…
Since you are reading this, then I have you to thank for supporting me on my journey to a better life. I hope that the art that I create in this new home better reflects that attitude and I certainly will do all that I can to be far more productive in creating that art.
