Listening to the Barenaked Ladies’ “The Old Apartment” reminded me that I didn’t say anything about the trip up to Detroit on Friday.
We were about 45 minutes ahead of schedule [mainly due to leaving early and making better time with a detour around Louisville–Mom and Dad, they put a spur around the south side of the city so you don’t have to make the 65-71 transition anymore!], and so I looked at the guys and said, “Okay, I have a request. Can we go by my old house?”
I hadn’t been to Beavercreek since we moved in early June of 1991. Doug had been back for his 10-year high school reunion, and he tried to impress upon me how different everything was. No such luck. I was freaking out about how different everything was the entire time–just ask Mike or George.
The old house looks just about like I remembered it. There was even a lamp in the same spot in the living room window where we always had one, and it looked like I could just pull in, walk up the stairs to the porch, get the key from under the rock, and walk on in to the house, where Buttons would surely be waiting, yapping happily at me.
But no. I’m 24, not 12. “Broke into the old apartment / Tore the phone out of the wall / Only memories, fading memories / Blending into dull tableaux / I want them back / I want them back”
The funniest thing was driving by my best friend’s house, realizing that yep, that was his Jeep in the driveway, and stifling the urge to knock on the door at 4:30 a.m.
Now that I know how short the drive is, I’ll have to make it some weekend when I have time. [Please, laugh with me now.]
“I know we don’t live here anymore / We bought an old house on the Danforth / She loves me and her body keeps me warm / I’m happy here / But this is where we used to live”
Yeah. Beavercreek is much the same as I remembered it, at least in the old parts of town. The further north you go out towards Wright-Patt, though, the newer it becomes. It’s really scary. I need to go back and take photos during the day, just so Mom and Dad can see. 🙂