2755 is the street address of my last residence. Yesterday my mother and I pulled the last of our belongings from the garage and I couldn't help but be overtaken with an unexpected sadness. It occurred to me as I drove away that this place was the home that kept my mom and I connected. We moved there together out of necessity four years ago. It was a second chance for the both of us. I had lost my job and her home had gone into foreclosure. Reluctantly we came across 2755 which we agreed to share. After a year, I ended up moving into the basement apartment of this duplex home, and my mom remained upstairs.
The refridgerator froze absolutely everything, If left plugged in the oven's alarm would randomly sound loudly (usually in the middle of the night), one whole wall in the hallway was exposed, the toilet didn't always flush, the temperature knobs in the shower were broken, there wasn't a smoke alarm, and i didn't have control of the thermostat. Cold, and dark, and falling apart..I loved my home.
I feel like I learned so much in that basement. I found myself, I lost myself, I found myself again. I hadn't intended on staying there for the next three years, and in truth I think that most of that time was spent 'hiding' from this life. But I feel fortunate that I had that safe place to hide in. Up until that point I had not had as strong a sense of 'home' since i was 13. Finally at 2755 I gave myself permission to be who I am. And though I may not find myself at that specific address again I will always be thankful for the time that I spent there, and what it represented for me. And just as strong as I whole-heartedly embraced it, I knew it was time for me to come out of the ground; to step out of the period of transition that I was in; to stop hiding and live my life.
But for now, although I haven't lived with her in more than three years, haven't lived near her in more than three months, and haven't even really seen her in more than three weeks... today is the first day that I really miss my mom.