February 10, 2009

Stolen Lines #2 – Moving Back to a Ghost-Filled Neighborhood

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

I remember to the right is where my friend used to live. I would pick her up and we would go to the bar right there. Walking around looking to meet some guys.

That bar. Packed full of ghosts. Overflowing with them. Ghosts of a past where I was much more reckless, barely recognizable to this person I am now. Many, many, many nights spent drinking there, with friends who have since moved far away, and have stayed close, who have gotten married, had kids, stayed single, and those that still go to the bar, like no time has passed at all. Good memories, bad memories. Ghosts I welcome in my thoughts, ghosts I try very hard to forget.

Memories of the neighborhood party house remembered as I drive by, on my way to the grocery store, or Wal-Mart. Memories of a past life, with past friends collide with the mundane errands of this life.

Another house off another street. Where my ex used to live in this past life. His parents’ house? Just turn right there.

My parents lived down that road to your left. I never visited them, even though I lived just 20 minutes away. Regrets remembered as they now live 5 hours away.

The boarded-up grocery store where old ghosts/friends and I once attempted to buy beer at 10:00 A.M. Refused, we walked back to that ghost filled house down the street where I used to live.

I run into ghosts, while shopping, at fast food restaurants, at the library. Every where I turn, I fear running into someone from my past. Running into someone who remembers that all these ghosts exist, while I think of the ghost that they are.

In my present life, where the ghosts don’t exist, where they are shuffled back, away, in the deep recesses of a sometimes regret-filled, sometimes happy memory, I forgot all these ghosts existed. It was not until we bought the house, moved in, got comfortable, did the ghosts reappear. They hid out, never surfacing before the decision was made. Now, they are everywhere I go. Inescapable. Omnipresent.

I spent years away from this part of town, from this city even. Making new memories and meeting new people, who are now ghosts that exist in different spots and different states. Moving back to this area, has resurrected hundreds of ghosts, in every corner. I can’t hide from them.

Ghosts definitely live here, but now, so do I. I must make peace with the ghosts. Good and bad ghosts. They are in the past, but they are also a big part of me.

This is a part of Grace's experiment. I stole the first line of this post from You'll Never Eat Lunch in This town Again, by Julia Phillips.


Kristine said...

It's funny how Stolen Lines pulls something from us that may not necessarily have been on our own front page anymore. I saw myself and my move to SF in your words. Nicely done.

Pamela said...

this was COOOL. I might follow your lead and play along...
(we'll see)

Kaytabug said...

WOW! Seriously, the 2 posts you have done from this experiment are totally AWESOME!!! Like WOW!

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