740 w 13th st.

My address is on thirteenth street. It's the section between Jackson and Indian, two unique streets that stretch but a few blocks long. My roommate and I love the river, inexpensive living, being close to down town, and windows that open. After looking with no luck for a few months, and feeling a little deflated at the possibility of the perfect spot, she called to let me know the opposite. "I think I found where we're going to live." She doesn't commit to words like these half-heartedly, so I drove strait to meet her. Thirteenth between the unique streets is also within eye shot of Riverside, so it was automatically promising. She fetched the key hidden under the lid of the trash can full of leaves and brush, and proceeded to walk me through the empty two bedroom hard wood floored space. She had in fact found it.

And what follows is a life principle that can both be beautiful, and extremely shitty. We always approach new seasons with knowns. I knew my bedroom would be the one to the right of the bathroom, and that I would string the quilt my uncle surprised me with a Christmas a few years earlier across my bed that I would rarely make. I knew my roommate would hang the map shower curtain she's been so eager to get out of storage, and that I would appreciate so much, post living in a second story patio-less apartment, the ability to walk out of my front door and sit on my front steps with my toes in the grass. The potentially beautiful potentially shitty part is the list of unknowns, the variables we have no control over.

I had experienced some of that difficulty a few summers before in Washington DC. I hadn't known how physically exhausted my body would be after running a marathon, and that it would take me some time to recover. I hadn't been prepared for the post-run blues that sink in after such a long stretched goal is accomplished and over with. I didn't know it would be one of the hottest and most caustic summers in DC's past, and that the heat would make it close to impossible for me to get myself out the door for a walk, much less a run. I didn't know that my one consistent outlet that helps me deal with most things in life would be practically stripped from my summer days. That was shitty.

My current address has produced quite the opposite, I'm ecstatic to say. I had no idea that my path would cross so timely with Laura's, my neighbor on Jackson Avenue. I didn't know that I would fall in love with her dog Viola, or how much joy would come from walking over after a run and retrieving the hidden key simply get some quality Vi time in. I didn't know that quality Vi time would often change the mental course of my days. I didn't know Julie that lives on Jackson, at all, or that she was a runner. I didn't even know that I could enjoy running with another person. It turns out I do. I didn't know that Indian Avenue was so close, and that in turn, Holt too. I didn't know that our friendship would continue to blossom, or that we would have frequent neighbor dinners, cooking for each other, drinking, sharing life. I didn't ever expect to find myself in his and James' kitchen on a Sunday, baking biscuits and stirring gravy after walking over with a paper bag of groceries. I didn't know how much I would eventually adore Anne, Holt's girlfriend. I didn't know how hilarious she is, or that a genuine friendship would form between us. I didn't know that true neighbors and neighborhoods still existed, or that my neighbors would become my community. I didn't know any of this until I moved to thirteenth street. And it's beautiful.