Wednesday, March 24, 2010


Write the address of an apartment or house where you once lived. Close your eyes and put yourself back there, experiencing it with all your senses, not neglecting smell, touch and sound. Walk through it. Write in detail a description of the place. Now write something that happened there once...

3460 Brinker Avenue, Ogden, Utah. My first apartment. It was a studio apartment in the same complex my late mother once lived in when she was a student at Weber State University. I can’t think of a distinct smell in the place but it certainly smelled like whatever I was cooking for dinner. My bed was next to the window. My desk next to that. I honestly can’t recall too much detail because the place was almost always a mess.

I dated a girl who lived in the same building. She would call me when I wasn’t home and leave long messages on my answering machine. I loved listening to them. One evening I was listening to one of her messages and responding to it out loud. “I miss you too, baby.” “I can’t wait to see you.” I didn’t know it but she was right outside of my apartment and my window was open and she was listening to me listening to her.

On another evening she and I were talking on the phone. I was in my apartment, she was on her cell as she was driving home. When she told me that she was getting close to home I walked outside so I could see her pulling up and we kept talking to each other the whole time. Even after she parked her car and she climbed the stairs. We were maybe ten feet away from each other before we hung up.

One evening she was mad at me and she toilet papered my car. Not just with toilet paper but also with chocolate sauce. We talked out our problems and she went out with me in the middle of the night to wash my car.

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