Home Away From Home

I would never get tired of this walk. Shifting my back pack so that it sat well on my back, I left the university center and headed up Gould Street. I headed for the excitement of Yonge Street. There was always action there. People walking, laughter and chatter, traffic moving along at a snail’s pace. Seeing as it was Friday, it was already picking up. Traffic strung up the street, bumper to bumper edging along. The drivers and their passengers wanted to see and be seen. Windows rolled down, arms leaning out, music blasting from some of the more flashy vehicles. I shook my head at the dramatics of it all.

By the time I reached the opening between two of the office buildings that allowed me to pass through to my street, I was glad for the peace and quiet that enveloped me... it was like being in a different place altogether. The houses stood with aged authority. Their three story brick structures a piece of history tucked back behind all the glass and concrete. A one way street; at the rounding of the street where Granby street changed to Sheard street, and then changed again to McGill, a small grassy area sported a bench and flowers in full bloom. Reds, yellows purples and blues added a sweet hominess to the area. An old style lamp post hovered like a beacon. Beyond, the street stretched out shaded by old trees. Their lush, green foliage whispering in the breeze. Front yards at this end of the street, were a patchwork of wrought iron fences surrounding tiny lawns with cracked pathways leading from a front gates to wooden steps leading up to large front doors. Many houses had their brick painted. Some were red, some blue, one was even purple. Definitely a colourful neighbourhood. The houses that left their brick natural had school house red brick that blended well with the neighbourhood.

I crossed the street, barely looking to see if anyone was coming, as the street was so quiet. I passed the first house and stopped at the wrought iron gate leading up to the denim blue brick house. Looking up and smiling at the house that was now my home. Well half of it. One side, to the left, was still owned my roommate’s father, but a family lived in that side. Our side, on the right, was the five of us; sharing the space. The right side had lace curtains in the windows and looked quite homey. Our side was not so wonderfully spruced up. The windows on the second floor were bare. Heather had rigged sheets to pull down at night but they were currently pulled to the side. The bathroom window on the third floor had a curtain in place, so did the windows in Heather's room - also on the third floor, but they were open right now as she loved to let in the natural light.

From the street, nothing was visible.

I made my way through the gate that creaked open and clanged close behind me as I took the pathway up to the steps. The front stoop was not wide. I unlocked the door and slipped inside careful to make sure the door was closed firmly behind me. To the left was another door with a lacy curtain pulled across the door's window. The was the Gavrin's residence. I turned and took the hallway that lead me to an open area where the girls and the Gavrin family kept their bicycles. A large window illuminated the area. A door at the back led down to the basement stairs where some people kept their stuff, but I headed for the stairwell that lead up to the second floor. The stairwell was dark at the top, so I flipped on the light before climbing the steps to the door at the top landing. Here I was able to unlock our door and let myself into the hallway of our place.

It was quiet. I was pretty sure I was alone, but I still moved into the kitchen to check our status board and move my own magnet to its home position. I erased my estimated home time and drew in a smiling face.

Heather, Evie and Pam were all out. Only Pam had later time with a note to say she'd be home at 9 pm after work. Not sure about Jacqueline. She refused to use the board. She claimed it was 'stupid', but single women with different schedules needed to keep aware of each in order to keep each other safe. We were a family of sorts.

My stomach let out a loud grumble that vibrated up through my body. I gripped my tummy and swung my back pack off my shoulder and into a chair by the window. I moved to the fridge in search of something from my area. Cheese and a pear would do nicely. I washed and dried my pear, then cut a few thick slabs of old cheddar. I tossed the items into a bowl, then put the cheese back into my section of the fridge before grabbing my back pack and my bowl and heading down the hall to the stairs that lead to the third floor and my room at the back of the house.

Once in my room, I left my door open and dropped my back pack just inside the entrance. I moved to sit cross legged on my bed where I could eat my snack and look out the window to the view of the house behind. Not much of a view, but it was decidedly private and mine. It let light into the room. I had installed a curtain for some privacy and a bit of room darkening, but more often than not, I left it open. I shifted to push the window up to let in a little air. The sound and rumble of the city traffic and life beyond my tiny room flew in. The quiet of the house scattered. This was my place. My very own and I felt I truly belonged here.