Sloping Floors

     Day was horrified when she finally got to see the house Marcus and his friends were "SO excited about" renting for sophomore year. "It's beyond awful," she said, "Over a hundred years old, the shabbiest house in the neighborhood.  There are no countertops in the tiny kitchen.  And the floors slope at least six inches from one side to the other!" 

     "Why would three 19-year- old boys choose it?  Why am I the only parent of said 19-year-olds who's scared it's going to burn down?  Even Tom says it's going to be fine."

      "You've just described exactly the house I lived in when I was nineteen," I said.  Newlyweds, we rented a shabby little house on Mistletoe for $75 a month.  It holds so many good memories!" 

     I didn't know how to mop back then,  One day I poured water onto the kitchen floor and it ran all the way to the other side of the house.  The floors sloped wat least six inches.  I mopped up the puddle with towels, then walked to a pay phone to call my mama and daddy (collect, as always) for a mopping tutorial.

     I improvised fruit crates to serve as a pantry, filled mostly with boxes of Chef Boyardee Pizza--since I hadn't yet learned to cook anything but brownies and pound cakes. For a countertop, I bought a little table.  We left the doors unlocked.  When brownies were cooking, neighbor kids would come in and ask for some. 

     "They are just kids," I said,  "They don't care about sloping floors or kitchen counters. This will be part of their education."

     "That's pretty much what Tom said," she said, disappointed that I didn't share her horror.

     When I drive past the Mistletoe house now, a flood of happy memories whooshes in: 

     *The neighbor kids returning to get another brownie "for Grandma." 

     *Mark refusing money from my parents (who were probably horrified that I was living in such a terrible place) just before the dilapidated chair he was sitting in collapsed to the floor with him in it--all four of us laughing at the irony.  

     *Having friends over for pizza, beer, and pound cake and eating on the blue rug--the only furnishings a stereo and a curbside-find coffee table holding a vase colorful Mexican paper flowers.  

    *Listening to our three albums: Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, and Miles Davis.  

    *Selling some wedding silver to buy a spirited German Shepherd puppy ($65 from a breeder!) whose value to us was beyond words! 

    *Rewiring a cage from the Mexican Market to hold two finches.

     *Learning to mop and clean up puppy poo on the blue rug.

     *Making a hanging light with papier mache on a big balloon. 

         At nineteen, I didn't care what we didn't have. Sloping floors were immaterial.  What we did have (like still loving each other and having a dog and music) seemed like wealth. We only lived in that house for 3 months.  How could one little decrepit house hold so many good memories, so many life lessons? 

     And so it goes.  The circle of life. 

     Carlene moving into a luxurious apartment with all the amenities she could ever want,  

     Jackson and his girlfriend and another friend moving into a very nice Richmond apartment for his first year of graduate school. 

     Marcus moving into his first house just a few blocks from his brother.  

     And me--playing house in Carlene's for the summer.  

Jackson and Tom in Jackson's new Richmond apartment

Marcus and his two roommates, both named Ben