Remembering back to my first moment of being a grown up.

Today I was reading a book titled Lets Bring Back ...it talks about all the things of a bygone era that are missing in our lives right now.  As I reached the M section there is sat on the page...Murphy Bed.  A reminder of my very first apartment away from home.  I was so young and in the daylight I looked at this little place with reverence.  Such freedom.  It had 13 windows in a half moon sorta way since this little studio was part of a old victorian that had been broken up into little living spaces. The closet was deep but only because it had a murphy bed that fell right out of it.  The claw foot tub was deep and lovely.  Now I say in daylight because its important to note that this place was so much more to my young eyes and the freedom it promised.  It was in a poor neighborhood frequented by working girls.  The hallways smelled old and musty.  Paint had been put on layer over layer never sanding down to start new.  As I moved in my Mother was slightly horrified their were roaches and the kitchen was in dyer need of appliances that were newer then the 1950s rejects provided.  The tile in the bathroom was irregular and missing in spots and the sinks undercarriage was fully exposed and rusty.  The vanity mirror was aged and pitted with one solitary bulb that wavered when too many things were plugged in at once.  What should have been carpet was so old and smashed to the floor it resembled a coffee colored felt.
     And yet...I loved it.  For the monthly cost of $230 a month it was Randy and I's first place.  I made little changes that seemed huge at the time.  A found half round table just small enough in the entry way.  Fresh paint in the kitchen with some pillowcases turned into curtains.  An old futon we used as a couch that I lovingly covered with a blanket to make it look more festive and my constant attempt to put fresh flowers in the house so it would feel and smell pretty inside.  I think back now to all the canned chili dinners with saltines and the endless amounts of kool aid we drank because it was all we could afford.  I fondly remember my first case of Oreos I had to have then ate till I was sick to death of them and did not touch one again for 3 years.  How living there was my way of being on my own only appreciating how my mother must have felt being a mother now.  How leaving me in that bug infested dirty environment at the end of moving day must have felt like for her.  Don't worry mom I was smiling and oblivious.