Last winter, as I stepped out the door of my local Starbucks I stopped and took in the surroundings of the street where my office is located. It was early. About 7:45 a.m. The air was damp and chilly, but I didn’t notice. All I saw was, my city. I grew up here. Roamed the streets as a young wild child and drank illegally in as many bars as I could. My old haunts are all closed now. Or the names have changed. That’s neither here nor there. What I want to write about, is how I felt that morning….
With my trusty iPhone at the ready, I captured a moment in time. I’ll never get it back, but I’ll remember what it felt like to stand outside on a dreary morning. I was happy. Smiling from ear to ear, because of story I’d written. Or a text I’d received. Or maybe, I was just happy to be alive and employed.
There were paper plates strewn all over the sidewalk from the folks that closed the bars at 2:00 a.m. I can imagine them, standing there. Holding pizza in their hands and wobbling from the beer they’d consumed at the Brown Jug or the Blue Leprechaun. One should experience closing time on Central Campus at least once in their lives. I would now, but I’m sure the young people would look at me and think I was a freak for intruding on their ritual. I’m in bed before midnight most of the time now anyway.
The trees were illuminated with Christmas lights, but it was long after the holiday. It tickled me to see them though. I can’t explain why. I could hear the crackle of electricity in the air. The constant humming gave me a kind of inner peace. It’s something that I seek every day. In the few moments I stood in the street, I felt it. I think I even owned it. Then it was gone.
Shaken from my reverie, I checked the time on my phone. It was getting late and I needed to make my way to my office, just a few blocks away. I placed the phone in my bra and began to walk down the sidewalk (yes, it does make my boob look square, but I’ve no where else to put the damn thing). I needed to focus on work and real life.
Fortunately, I get to take a few moments every morning and take in the beauty that is South University. Even with litter strewn about, I still love it.
(My words have been lost lately, due to a myriad of things going on in my life. Please stick with me my sweets. I promise to be back in rare form soon. I might even say the F word from time to time.)
It is like no other town! I love it’s offbeat, unashamedly funky vibe. Back in the 80’s, Middle Earth sold a t-shirt that read: “Ann Arbor – Cars, Bars, and a Lot of Weirdos”….that sums it up pretty well, lol!
But…please tell me the Brown Jug did not close…and enlighten me as to what the heck the Blue Leprechaun is, lol….I’ve been gone too long…. ; P
The Brown Jug is still open. 🙂 The Blue Leprechaun is another bar on South U. I think that Middle Earth still sells that t-shirt. I need to go buy one. Giggle.
That was a lovely reminiscence, darling! Any time I return to old haunts, I feel strangely alien, and there’s a sadness there that I can’t express properly. Dylan really did get it right with Like A Rolling Stone. Sometimes I feel I, too, have no direction home — wherever that is.
Home is a kiss, word, story, touch, memory, or whatever we deem it to be. Home is not a place we dwell. It dwells inside of us….
I’m just feeling sadly nostalgic, darling. I had to take a break from my California years story, so then I went and told a story of my impetuous youth, thinking that I could laugh at myself. Instead, I just found myself missing yet another place I once called home.
Oh honey, I completely understand. We writers feel more than others, don’t we? It hurts, but in a good way. I figure if my story make me nostalgic and weepy, then just imagine how my readers will feel. Keep on writing, your words make me happy.
I felt like I was standing there with you.
This is an amazing community. You can shut down for awhile and when you come back it’s to welcoming and open arms. So rare! Be good to yourself.
I’m glad you felt that way my dear. It’s what I was hoping for. Thanks for stopping by honey.
Showing your fine form as away Renee, day in the life stories always make me nostalgic. Enjoy your early morning walks, the best time to reflect. ♥
Thanks for the kind comment sweetheart. I sure do appreciate it. It’s nice to have those times to enjoy the silence. ❤
I feel your pain, the bench press makes my boobies look square. Its just one of those things ya got to grin and bare ( or is it bare)
I love nostalgia it perfumes the present with the fecundities of the past. I have a place similar to where you describe in Brooklyn. when i go there which is rarely now I am always overcome buy the beauty of it all. it reminds me of a line from Bukowski’s poem Nirvana:
the curious feeling
swam through him
that everything
was
beautiful
there,
that it would always
stay beautiful
there.
Ill put a link for you to tom waits reading it in case you like that kinda stuff : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVVzCURucaA
Thank you my dear friend. Nothing is better than listening to Tom Waits. Even when he reads….
The only thing better than listening to tom waits is to share a clip with someone who likes him. This was a beautiful post and well written 🙂
Thank you. My words have been shit lately. I’m glad you liked it. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
You haven’t lost your words – you just think you have – I see them.
Scott
Thank you sweetheart. They’re coming back. Slow but sure…..
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Such a beautiful write-up!
Thanks my sweet. Glad you’re here….
Pleasure’s all mine… 🙂