I was out running today after a better than usual day at the office. I work from home. Either way, I started to think about all the homes, lofts, and apartments I’ve lived in. None of the compared to the apartment where I grew up in. I remember the week we moved to our new home on 57st, when I was 15-16-ish, and going back to the apartment and taking a nap there. An empty apartment where i once called home.
When i dream I usually dream of living there. When I think of heaven, I guess I would live there again.
My children, I hope they feel the same way of this place one day. I hope they have this house in their dreams and hope to live forever in it. Its tough being a dad sometimes. It feels like you fail most of the time. Its hard.
I secretly still go to the apartments and walk the yard, the alley, and sometimes sit on the stairs wishing I could run up and open the door and head into my room. But I cant.