A Place Called HomePosted: August 9, 2011
Apartment complexes are the last remaining bastions of semi-communal living. Residents are bound to each other by proximity if nothing else. Anonymity is allowed only so long as the status quo is maintained.
No stage of the life cycle is turned away there. Some residents are newer, younger. They are college Freshmen forging ahead, idealistic and full of potential. They are just starting out. Other residents are a bit older. The idealism has faded and been replaced by cynicism and regret. They have been married, perhaps happily, perhaps not. They have seen their children grow into teenagers who resent them for things they never did. Yet there is still an element of hope. Better things are just over the horizon if they can just keep truckin’.
The ones who remain have seen both previous stages. They have been young and full of optimism. They have been married, perhaps divorced, widowed. They have seen children grow up and beget grandchildren. They still visit every once in awhile. They’ve had homes full of life, love, and happy holidays. And for whatever reason, they end up in an apartment, surrounded sometimes by people just like themselves but also by people in whose shoes they have walked.
In the same way that living in these apartment complexes fosters a sense of community, perhaps more tangible than anything outside them, they also present life in microcosm. A living timeline. Proof positive that not all obstacles are insurmountable.