What are the earliest memories of the place you lived in as a child? Describe your house. What did it look like? How did it smell? What did it sound like? Was it quiet like a library, or full of the noise of life?Tell us all about it, in as much detail as you can recall.
The apartment on 24th Street is the second home that we lived in when I was little. The first was also on 24th Street, a little ways down the street, but I don’t remember it. I do remember the day that we moved to the second apartment that I called home for over ten years. I remember standing on the front stoop and watching my father and his friend, I’m assuming that it was Raymond, carrying our couch down the sidewalk and then up the stoop. I don’t know how young I was when we moved, maybe four years old. But later on in time, I remember my mother getting me ready in the mornings for kindergarten. The kitchen sink was a deep sink and she used to give me a quick sink bath and dress me quickly because our apartment was so cold, the kitchen was the warmest room with the oven door open with the oven on and the radiator was right there by the window. I remember my thick wool tights and my black and white saddle shoes.
My mother used to bundle my little sister and I in footed pajamas and a second pair of fluffy footed pajamas to keep us toasty during the winter nights. I remember one time after my little sister and I had helped Mister Brunner, our landlord, to shovel the stoop and the sidewalk after a snowstorm; my mother peeled us out of our snow pants, boots, gloves, scarfs and hats and plunked us down on the floor in front of the old fashioned t.v housed in the buffet console, covered us in a blanket and then fed us both Farina cream of wheat to warm us back up.
Our apartment was cold in the winter and steaming in the summer, but it was a nice apartment; it had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a dining room and of course a bathroom. I have great memories of that apartment, we had space, we were comfortable and we were lucky to have the best landlords in the world, not everyone can say that. This apartment was where my parents held their fantastic dinner parties, it was in this apartment that I started experimenting with making Jello desserts and pudding desserts, I then graduated to actual baking. It was in this apartment’s kitchen that I “created” chocolate toast; buttering toast and sprinkling Nesquick over the melted butter, I was eight or nine maybe when I made them for myself and my little sister.
Memories are what make an apartment a home.