For some reason the depths of my mind have been bubbling, gurgling up memories of my time spent of Maryland Street. I’ve been reliving the smells, the friends, the colours…the whole experience.
While I had spent time away from home on a few occasions, the quaint little house became my very first residence that was ALL MY OWN. I could decorate how I wanted, eat how I wanted, sleep how I wanted and clean how I wanted (or not at all)…it was MINE!
I lived in the house right beside Bella Vista, a tasty hole-in-the-wall pizza joint which featured lived bands, including one of my personal favourites, Scott Nolan, every Wednesday night. A rickety old fence was all that separated the back ‘smoking’ door to the restaurant and my bedroom window. I would often wake up to drunken conversations spoken too loudly…”it comes with the territory” I would tell myself. And it did. Wolsley is a colourful neighbourhood full of passionate people; the activists, the apathetic, the poor, the wealthy…they are all there. I managed to fall somewhere in the middle of it all and found myself quite a comfortable spot.
For the first part of my stay on Maryland Street I worked at, what I like to call, The Great Waste Of Life (Great West Life) doing all of the shit work for their Living Benefits Department. While I made some good friends and funny memories, it was an awful way to spend your work week. Picture ‘Office Space’ and that about sums it up, horrid. I wish that experience on NO ONE. However, I did find a pleasant solace walking to and from work everyday. What a wonderful time of reflection, of quiet. I would soak in the sights, the sounds, the houses, the people I passed. I would let it seep into me, into my soul…maybe that’s why I feel such a close connection to Maryland Street.
Or maybe it could be because it was James and my first shared living space? The house wasn’t my own for very long, but that was 100% okay with me, living on your own tends to be overrated. And besides, JAMES moved in! “Oh Glory,” I thought, “I get to live with a man!” We had friends over, we had movie nights, we had dates, we hosted our youth group, we went for walks, we cooked together, we didn’t clean together, we slept in together, we made the space OURS and it was all new to US. So that could be it.
OR, maybe it’s because it was the first house that we carried a little bundle into, the first house where I created a nursery. It turned into a sanctuary for me and my brand new baby. The first place where I soaked in what it meant to be a parent, with all its ups and downs. Maryland Street was where I became Mrs. Erskine and Mom. It’s also where I was able to welcome people, family, friends, into my space for the first time.
I don’t really know why I keep on thinking about that stage of my life. Maybe I’m just supposed to reflect on it until I learn something. Who knows?
My mom thought that I was going to die when I moved into that house. It turns out she was wrong, I didn’t die…in fact, I lived and I lived a lot.