Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Heather's Orchard: 51 Orchard Lane

The day we moved in, my mom gave me the bigger of the two bedrooms. I felt so happy and quietly excited--too cool to show how much that meant to me. It’s hard being 15--going on 16--and that space was great for me. Lots of room to dance and read and think.


My friend Jamie had a terrible relationship with her mother. Jamie was always on the lamb, running away or being thrown out—her bird, Petie, lived in my room with me for awhile. Pete loved Madonna. I would never admit, at the time, to owning that CD but would (and did) play it for Petie. You give me fever.

I took driving lessons from that apartment. Lessons from Sears driving school. I met a boy in driving school. One of my first real boyfriends. He made me laugh and was as smart as me. He had thick, dreamy Morrissey hair, and un-ironically liked The Smiths.  I remember how he smelled and peeing out of the window in his bedroom at his mom's house in the middle of the night. He was always up to some kind of shenanigans--talking to homeless people, picking up strangers from the bus stop and driving them places, spray painting every thing. We were free. 

Orchard Lane was a good street. 

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