I'm home sick today, so I'm pondering the good ol' days....
For most of the first decade of my life, I lived in an old converted grocery store. Yes, it sounds weird, but it was my first home.
After my Mom and biological father divorced, she moved us in with her partner (I hate to say boyfriend, because it sounds a little juvenile). He was 30 years older than her and, as I grew up, it was just what it was. I guess I learned from my early years that age doesn't matter when you love someone. He was the first father figure I knew, since the biological father was barely on the radar, and he'll always have a place in my heart as my first dad. Never mind that he was old enough to be my grandfather (which my paternal grandparents had HUGE issues with....), he had a hand in raising me and encouraged me in so many ways, from my arts to archery.
Anyway, back to the "house"...
The apartment portion of the building was a mixed bag of crazy, creative, and scary--to a young me. There were lots of dead heads. Back in those days, he was big into hunting, and so was my Mom. On almost every wall hung a glassy-eyed mount--from moose to elk to red yak (no idea the specific breed?) to badger to bison. Deer, antelope, beaver, fowl of all sizes and shapes, I think there was some rodents & snakes, too. And they all stared at me...their dead eyes followed my every move through the place. It was creepy as hell for an imaginative 6-8 year old who pictured them glowering at me when I went to sleep on the couch--and then imagined them leaping out of the wall at me. Thankfully, at least one dead animal didn't stare at me: the elephant foot stool. I have no idea how the hell he got it, but there was a stool made from an elephant's foot--and topped with a cushion of a piece of zebra hide. Weeeeeird.
Along with all the mounts on the walls were tons of pictures--most of which showed a particular dead animal being crouched over by smiling friends & family. Ah, Montana....
The kitchen was an open area--and lined atop the cupboards with lots of bottles of foreign beers. The washer, dryer, and fridge/pantry were just off the kitchen.
In the living room area was a fireplace and some furniture. But the absolute best part, my favorite part, was the fish pond. Yes, a fish
pond. In the back corner of the living area was an open pond built into the floor. Koi and other species of fish swam there. You could reach right down and stick your hand in the water. To make things even cooler--as you left/entered the apartment, you could walk over a piece of plexiglass that allowed you to look right down into another part of the pond. The first time anyone came over, they were always afraid they'd break through. It was funny to see the reactions. So the dead animals were creepy, but the pond was so cool. I fished out a koi once, when I was about 5. I told Mom's guy that I was going fishing--he thought down by the creek (fenced at the banks) that ran at the bottom of the hill next to the building. I meant in the fish pond. Apparently it was hilarious...and a little expensive. Koi aren't cheap.
That was just the downstairs.
Upstairs was my room, which I shared with my sister. This room had one wall papered with the images of a sunlit forest in autumn. It was golden-hued and most of the trees were narrow. There was lots of places for monsters to peek out at me as I lay in bed. Oh, how I hated that wall. I slept on a trundle bed--the kind where one bed fits beneath the other, so if you need an extra place to sleep, you can just pull it out from under the other. It was kind of neat, but also a great spot for the cats to hide.
Next to our room was my brother's room. In his room was a hole in the wall that led to the rafters above the apartment. It was another scary place to me, especially since bats could occasionally be found there. Luckily it was usually covered up with a painting of some sort.
None of the rooms had doors, except for the toilet & shower. This was a free-for-all kind of place. Not a lot of privacy, but who needs that anyway?
Just outside the bedrooms was a balcony that overlooked the first floor. There was railing all along the length of the second floor, so when the adults had friends over, we'd sneak to the railing and watch them when it was late.
Also on the second floor was the party bar. Pre-Mom, the guy & his wife liked to have friends over. So much so, they built an actual bar--stocked with glasses hanging above, a sink & fridge below, and lots of bottles behind. It was such a cool place to play as a kid. Strange, yes, but how many kids get to play bartender at an actual bar when they're 7? The adults made it look so cool, and kids love to mimic adults. We never opened any bottles, or even touched them, I think.
Just above the center of the second floor was the skylight--the only window in the apartment. I think that might be an influence as to why I've always been comfortable living in basements.
All in all, I loved and hated living there. But mostly loved it. The only reason I hated it was because of all those eerie eyes following my steps...
Did I mention my out-of-control imagination?
In any case, I have so many happy memories of being there. I remember a birthday when I got 3 cakes--I think I turned 7 or 8. I remember listening to the sound of Mom's laughter from upstairs when she had friends over. I remember my brother teaching me how to make scrambled cheese eggs so I could give Mom breakfast in bed for Mother's Day. I remember watching the cat give birth--amazing to a kid. And I remember sneaking out to the rail on Christmas Eve to watch "Santa" putting presents by the fireplace.
Sad memories, as well, of goodbyes--when my brother left for Washington the first time. I cried because my heart broke. I loved him so much and my world was going to be emptier without him.
I cried when we had to say goodbye to TC, the big, sweet Malamute mix. She was sick, arthritic, and old, and they had to take her away with a tarp tied between two poles (the way I remember it) because she was so big. That was my very first goodbye to an animal I loved. I can still remember burying my face in her fur as I sobbed before they came to take her.
There's more memories....the smell of Old Spice in the bathroom....pranking Mom with a huge frozen moth on her pillow (she was terrified of moths), which my sister thought would be funny....sitting on the spiral staircase while I watched the grownups talk....watching the Weather Channel every day after school, then calling Mom 7 times the day when a tornado watch went into effect--and going outside to see the funnel lower into the center of town. F.R.E.A.K.Y....my sister putting gum in my hair "just to see what happens" (what happened was she got in big trouble and I got a new haircut)...and the time I used the itty bitty scissors the biological dude got me for Christmas to cut my own bangs, followed by me pretending I didn't know what Mom was talking about when she asked if I'd cut my own hair the next morning.
Ahh, nostalgia...