Closing Doors

  

They say when one door closes, another one opens. I am not one who really believes in these cliches or sayings. I do know, however, that when we close a door, it is usually for a good reason. We find out later on in life whether another one opens for us or not. We close doors in our lives and move on to other things for various reasons. Sometimes it is out of selfishness, sometimes to pursue happiness, for the sake of change, or because we are unhappy, etc.

I moved out of my parent's house back in 1991. Since then, I have lived in 4 different houses/apartments. Next week, I will be moving on to house/apartment #5. I've put a lot of myself into every place I have ever lived. I enjoy the tranquility and the coziness of "home." My first two apartments were places to live, but never felt like a "home" to me. When I moved to Long Beach a few years back, I felt the first sense of that "home" feeling for the first time since I left my parent's home back in the early 1990's.

The house on E. Beech Street was great. Two bedrooms, two baths, a large living room, kitchen, a long hallway, hardwood floors, a yard, a patio, two blocks from the ocean. When Joyce and I went to look at the house, we begged the landlord to let us have it, even though they already had deposit checks from 8 other people. They fell in love with me and Joyce, perhaps it was her crystal blue eyes and smile that lit up any room she entered, perhaps it was my silly humor and shmoozing. Whatever it was, we got the place and moved in a month later. At that point Joyce and I had been together for a few years. About six months later, I knew that she was not "the one" and as much as it saddened me to say goodbye, we did. She left about a month later.

A friend of mine, named Doug, told me his brother was looking for a place. I met Alex and we got along great. I decided to let him move in and we became close friends right off the bat. We shared many great conversations, he was one of the first guys I ever met that actually expressed himself very well. We had some great times and confided in each other about so many things. We constantly had music on, as we were both huge music fans. We talked music, played music, wrote music, and just had a great year together in that house.

Alex wanted to move to NYC late in 2003. I knew then, that my time was up in that house. I knew I would not start another roommate search, that the place I called "home" I would have to leave. It was one of the toughest days of my life.

Alex had left on Wednesday, I moved out on Friday. I remember that day well. It was a damp, raw, and cloudy day. I remember taking one last walk into each room. My footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors as I made my way into each room.

I started in the living room. I thought of all the conversations I had in there. Conversations with Joyce, with Alex, with girls I had dated. I also remembered the "dance floor" we had in there for parties when we'd move the furniture along the perimeter of the room and pump up the stereo. I remembered our New Year's Eve 2002 party and I remembered a first kiss or two I had in there with a girl I dated, and the conversations we had over wine and music. I remembered the Soprano's/Curb Your Enthusiasm Sunday Night after dinner gatherings in there...and so much more.

I then went to Alex's room, which used to be the room I shared with Joyce before Alex moved in. I thought of all the chats Joyce and I had in there, the work/painting we did in there with the help of her sister and brother in law, and our movie nights in there. I also remembered helping Alex unpack the night he moved in and just sitting in there and talking with him for hours about girls, music, and the fun times that were ahead.

I then went into "my" room, an empty shell of what it once was. I remembered all the good times I had in there. The late nights staggering in from the local bars with LW after we'd bartend. LW was a girl I met in bartending school who I dated for a while. The only time we got to see each other on the weekends was after 2am, so after a night of drinking, we'd head to my place and chill. I remember the nights I would sit in there alone and write my songs. I remember the highs and the lows I experienced that year and the nights I'd lay in bed mulling over what was taking place in my life.

I then walked down the long hallway towards the kitchen. I thought of the drunken frozen chicken bowling night with MV. I remembered the baby powder hockey games, the wheelbarrow races, Alex falling every time I'd wax the hardwood floors with Pledge, and the hallway full of people the night of Alex's birthday party.

The kitchen. I thought of all the nice meals prepared in there, Joyce's successful attempt at a homemade chicken pot pie that took her 4 hours (we ate at 11pm that night), the Sunday meals I'd cook for about 12 people. I still don't know how we all fit in there. I remembered the Saturday morning bagels with Alex each week, the dinnertime TV watching and chatting about current events, watching he start of the Iraq war on that little kitchen TV, and so much more.

After visiting each room, with tears in my eyes, I knew it was time to say goodbye. I remember pulling that door closed and realizing that part of me was being left behind. The memories that took place in that house, the amazing times, the hurtful times, the dramatic times, will all stay with me for the rest of my life.

When I moved into this house shortly after that, it was different. It had a different feel. I never felt the closeness or the feelings I had living on Beech St. I never felt like myself, or that I could be myself. I am leaving this house in a few days, not for Bruce, not for my girlfriend, not for any other reason other than to find that piece of me that was left on Beech St. almost 3 years ago. Sure Bruce will have a yard, Tiny A and I will grow closer, new friends will be made, old ones re-established, etc. But most of all, I will find that peace of mind, that spirit, that feeling, that enthusiasm, that recipe for happiness if you will, that I locked away three years ago. This is one door I am looking forward to closing.

So come the next few days, there will be no house tour, no memories, no nostalgia, and no flashbacks. I will take my belongings, my dog, and my peace of mind to an open door that is waiting for us. A door that will open up new fantastic memories, new stories to tell, and new happiness for me. I hope you all continue to follow me on that journey.