Do you ever wonder if any of the homes you've lived in remember you? If some part of that place calls out to you, drawing from feelings and emotions still contained in those walls, as if it has kept pieces of you that no amount of moving or cleaning were able to remove?

There is one place in general that elicits those feelings from me, which is why I avoid that part of town whenever possible. Driving by it today, I remember the sensation of the itchy beige carpet on my back as we made love in his office, how cold certain spots in the house were no matter how high the thermostat was turned up, how multiple people commented on how the coal-burning fireplace looked like a gate to hell. I remember the happiness and the pain there, and they call to me.

It's no secret that Bear and I have a rocky past. We've gone up and down quicker than the fastest roller coaster, made it through things that would rip ordinary couples to shreds. I'm not sure why that apartment contains those feelings for me. We were incredibly dysfunctional there and the most hurtful things we've ever said to each other were inside those walls. Maybe the passion of the time calls out to me. I'm not sure what it is, but I know that the ghosts of Grove Street will haunt me for much longer than I expected.

This entry was posted by Mellie, on Thursday, March 30, 2006.