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On my way home from buying a wicker ottoman from someone off of kijiji (seriously, best place to furnish an apartment with), I was walking down some side streets off of the main drag, and stumbled across my elementary school. It was like magic or something. One minute, I'm tromping down a dark street, admiring the falling snow, and suddenly BAM! Elementary school
Okay, I knew it was around there somewhere, but I wasn't expecting to find it.
The building is so big in my memory, especially the large front entrance. I have a photograph of me somewhere - tiny, dark-haired, wearing pink and white with black mary-janes and ruffled white socks, clutching my lunch box - completely over-shadowed by that front entrance on my first day of school. And yet, looking at it tonight, the building seemed so small. Or smaller, anyways.
There's a part of me that wants to go inside, find more of the memories that bombarded me tonight. But there's another part of me that doesn't want reality to barge in on the magical memories that lurk in those hallways.
I will tell you, it's strange to be in this neighbourhood again. I love it, and feel more at home here than anywhere else I've ever lived. At the same time, it's bittersweet. Memories of my Dad, who died nearly 6 years ago (cripes, has it really been that long?). Memories of my best friend growing up, who I lost touch with. Memories of what used to be.
It's eerie. Hmm. I suppose this is why I've been in a strange mood since I got home.
Or maybe it's the wing chair of awesome. It seems to chronically induce lethargy.
Okay, I knew it was around there somewhere, but I wasn't expecting to find it.
The building is so big in my memory, especially the large front entrance. I have a photograph of me somewhere - tiny, dark-haired, wearing pink and white with black mary-janes and ruffled white socks, clutching my lunch box - completely over-shadowed by that front entrance on my first day of school. And yet, looking at it tonight, the building seemed so small. Or smaller, anyways.
There's a part of me that wants to go inside, find more of the memories that bombarded me tonight. But there's another part of me that doesn't want reality to barge in on the magical memories that lurk in those hallways.
I will tell you, it's strange to be in this neighbourhood again. I love it, and feel more at home here than anywhere else I've ever lived. At the same time, it's bittersweet. Memories of my Dad, who died nearly 6 years ago (cripes, has it really been that long?). Memories of my best friend growing up, who I lost touch with. Memories of what used to be.
It's eerie. Hmm. I suppose this is why I've been in a strange mood since I got home.
Or maybe it's the wing chair of awesome. It seems to chronically induce lethargy.
