#508: I HAVE THE BESTEST COURTYARD, IF YOU'RE WILLING TO FORGIVE ITS LACK OF A STICKY KID
Our new apartment building has a courtyard that does nothing to convince any of us that the cheap rent we pay is less than fair. Not that I have anything against the building we live in now. I love it. Really, I do. In fact, even though I might say some less than complimentary things about the courtyard, I love it, too. It's the tenement aesthetic that I have drooled over in photographs since I was a child.Buick Estate Wagon right outside the door to our room. At night, we would wait for the fireworks at Disneyland from the small pool out by the road and watch the traffic speeding by on the other side of the chain link fence. If I could get away unnoticed, I would sneak up to the second story walkway, sit on the rough cement floor, and dangle my feet through the railing. There was a small thrill that lifted my stomach when I hung my rubber thongs from my toes so precariously over that great height and they did not drop. Gravity had nothing on me.
I went out back yesterday to take these photographs, and I had to touch the clothesline pulleys and pick at some of the rust bubbling through the turquoise paint to know it was real. I get to live in a place with the style of my childhood daydreams, a place that means I'm somewhere different according to the loose symbology that floats through my neural pathways.
Cheap rent and a geriatric courtyard. Now all I need is for someone to put their little kid outside with an ice cream cone and a sticky shirt to complete the picture.
All hail cheap and easily achievable dreams!
I am so blessed.