I found myself on the outskirts of College Hill at about what I figured to be around three in the morning. I had been walking down alleyways to get to each next street. It was cool in the dark night. I kicked at some rocks and watched them land. I stopped to pet a cat. She purred and stretched, then ran away. I heard the great sound of silence about me. Sometimes there was a house playing television or someone running water. But mostly, the world around me was asleep. I did not question my insomnia. I required no sleep at this point. Everything I looked at was new to me. I thought not an ounce for my past. I was caught in the present moment of being, and knew that I should keep pushing forward so as not to stop my momentum. At the back of my mind was the idea that I would remember if I stopped moving, stopped looking. I did not know that I was even looking for something until I found it. My house.
It was on a corner lot, facing Emily Street, a street I had been down many times. I was surprised that I never noticed this house to which I was now so attracted. Maybe it was due to the completely overgrown and untended yard mostly obscuring the house from the street. There was a white picket fence surrounding a gray two story house. I thought of the scene in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ where George and Mary throw rocks at the abandoned old home which Mary wishes for her own. I picked up a sizable stone from the street and then lobbed it at the front glass door. It hit its’ mark and crashed in sounds of breaking glass tinkling through the night.
I opened the short gate leading up to the porch. The house was dark and had an abandoned atmosphere about it. I knew it was just waiting for someone to take possession of it. I knew it was waiting for me. I reached my hand through the hole of broken glass in the front door. As I stepped inside, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had come home. I walked around the lower level. In the center room there was a mattress on the floor layered with discarded clothing. I heard a sound as if someone were moving, but looking around I realized it was only myself. I walked to the left into an empty room. Along the side was a bay window with a seat built into the wall in front of the window. I sat down upon the wooden surface of this ledge and looked out onto the street, dimly lit by a buzzing street light. The big open doorway which led into the room in which I sat was copied on the other side of the middle room, leading into a kitchen area. I stepped over the sagging mattress into this ancient cooking room. The stove was a white, rounded old fashioned hunk of metal. The iron casing of the grill was stained red with rust. The huge old sink was yellowed with years of dripping water, though none flowed now. A refrigerator stood gaping to reveal nothing. In the back of the kitchen were two tiny doorways. One led outside to the backyard. The other led upstairs. There was a steep spiral staircase up which I went. I tripped over a warped phone book. The second floor had three rooms and a bathroom. A narrow hallway opened onto another grander staircase heading downstairs to the middle room. I had not seen it before in the darkness. Two of the rooms upstairs were completely empty, though shoved in the corner of one were more phone books and a green rotary dial telephone. The third room, however, had a bed upon an antique dark wood frame. A large armoire stood against one wall. I opened this to see an abundance of neatly folded men’s and women’s clothing. A closet beside this was shoved full of dresses and suits. Perhaps the couple who had lived here had died and left no directions as to the remains of their property. So why was the house abandoned, yet holding their few possessions? There was also a beautiful mahogany vanity, with a lovely old circular mirror perched on top. I looked into this and was shocked to see the stranger I had become. My hair was matted, my clothes hung limp and soiled. My face was covered with weeks of dirt unwashed. I looked down at my hands to see the same dirty fingernails I had left the Dave’s house with.
Ah, Dave. That was what I was trying to forget. He was the reason I took flight of my life. Thoughts of him were being permanently avoided in my mind. But here he was to haunt me again. I lay down on the bed, next to a window. I opened it’s old wooden frame, they fanned outward. In that moment I had a craving for a cigarette and decided even if I didn’t eat or drink anything a smoke would be nice. A habit from my past. Where was my past now? It seemed so far removed from my current position. I thought I would stay in this house for a long time. Perhaps I would never leave. It felt so comfortable to me, lonely, quiet and dark. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the void. I was home. For the first time in three weeks, I fell asleep.
***