Recalling the Narrow Way
By Diane Elayne Dees
October 15, 2022
October 15, 2022
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I think sometimes of my first “real” apartment,
a mere sliver of space on the second floor of an old uptown New Orleans house. A second-hand mustard-gold couch that would have been right at home on a Mad Men set was my treasure, along with stereo equipment I bought from an old-school geek who knew how to turn my modest savings into sound. A kitchen table, a used bookcase and dresser, a mattress I bought at an estate sale, a small television: It all fit into a strip of afterthought hidden from the city, quiet, no frills, cheap rent, surrounded by huge oaks. For years, I would live this way, but in bigger spaces, and with new-- but spare—furnishings, not knowing if I was minimalist by taste or paycheck. Now, decades later, I still crave space, I still hate clutter. But I also like rugs and lamps and tables and art and plants and glossy sound components. I’m grateful for comfort and beauty, yet—from time to time—I think of those days when I lived in that elevated ribbon of space, listening for the sound of my boyfriend running up the stairs, knowing that there was just enough room for him, and maybe Joni and the Airplane. In such a tiny enclosure, there was no room for bulky furniture or collections—no room for mortgage payments and renovations, no room for divorce, betrayal and hormonal collapse, no room for aging and regrets, no room for billowing curtains of suffocating grief. It was the narrowest of spaces, but there was always so much room to just breathe. |
Diane Elayne Dees is the author of the chapbooks, Coronary Truth (Kelsay Books) and The Last Time I Saw You (Finishing Line Press). Diane, who lives in Covington, Louisiana, also publishes Women Who Serve, a blog that delivers news and commentary on women’s professional tennis throughout the world. Her author blog is Diane Elayne Dees: Poet and Writer-at-Large.