Leaving Tower Street

As the days of summer march on I think more and more how much I love this apartment.
Mostly because I'll be leaving it soon.

I don't know for sure where I am going yet, only that Peter, our landlord, is selling the apartment to someone else. The apartment, which is already technically a condo is going to be worth hundreds of thousands more after he renovates. We would not be able to afford it.

I do my share of wishing I lived closer to the things I do every day. The $30 cab rides home from the North End after a midnight show tend to add up quickly in a month's time. But I do so many things I can't ever be central to all of them. This location is almost perfect.

Once you get off the train at Forest Hills you hear the traffic and general chaos of Washington Street. You cross the street, dodging cars until you reach the corner of Tower. As you begin to walk up the hill, not even a four minute walk, you notice that all the sounds are gone. All you hear are birds, maybe a guitar being strummed. People are sitting on their porches chatting. Someone's grilling. The sidewalk is overhung with trees and gardens sprawl out from the tiny patches of grass in front of triple deckers, and off the decks themselves.

It's like a different world.

Tower Street is a dead end. At the bottom of the street there's the train station, the Dogwood, a bodega and of course, Java Jo's. At the end, there's an iron gate with an entrance to Forest Hills Cemetery - home of some of my favorite wildlife and art work*.

Tonight I sat on my back porch with all the Christmas lights lit and watched the moon, which was a shade of gold, move across a purple sky. No stars, (I'm still in the city after all), but I can't hear the buses I know are moving in and out of the terminal only a block away. Instead, I can hear crickets, and the strains of a harmonica next door.

I'm going to miss sitting on the roof, the way the Japanese maple casts shadows on the front porch.

Even more I'm going to miss my roommates. Laura and I might be staying together, but may not be. Johnny is moving in with hir girlfriend. We have built an oasis here. We've had our share of grievances, but for the most part we've built a home where we can create, love, eat, drink, bathe and enjoy company. Our door is always open to travelers. Now I'm the traveler, and that feeling may last quite a while if I move in with strangers.

Then again, I felt this way about leaving Eagle Street with all my childhood memories, and Butterfield with our secret roof deck. I felt this way about McClellan with its secret passages and fire pit. And I've felt this way about roommates before. Wondering if I'd ever get along so well with a group of people again. And I always do.

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* Yep, I said artwork. In the cemetery.