This is a story about the different apartments I have lived in. Why should it matter? Because it is a way for me to tell you about them and a way to train my brain to see how much I can recall. The photo at the beginning of this article is the first apartment building I lived in at 237 Ovington Avenue.
The very first apartment I lived in was the one my parents brought me to after I was born. As you entered the apartment to the right was the kitchen and straight ahead along a small hallway was the bathroom. To the right was my parent’s bedroom and to the left, right opposite was the living room which I took over when I entered this world.
I do not remember starting to crawl or walk in this apartment but I must have. It was at this time that my parents realized they needed more space and we moved across the hallway to apartment 5B. This apartment was similar in that it also had the kitchen to the right once you entered. However, the hallway was much longer with the bathroom to the right and led right into a large living room. Straight off of the living room was a bedroom for my parents and to the left was a smaller bedroom for me.
Both of these apartments being on the 5th floor meant a lot of flights of stairs to walk up. When my dad started having some health issues he needed an apartment building with an elevator. This previous apartment building was addressed 237 Ovington Avenue in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, New York, and mom found an apartment right down the block in a six-story apartment house with an elevator so our address changed to 267 Ovington Avenue.
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Now, this apartment was again smaller but at this time we had to make the move because of dad and then wait for a larger apartment. It had a long hallway ending in the bathroom. To the right was the bedroom and to the left the living room. Just before the living room was the kitchen. It didn’t give us much room and I had to share the bedroom with my parents.
However, this is the apartment where my dad died when I was ten only a year after we moved. It is also the apartment in which I grew up, had my teenage years and went through university. Even though in between I got married and so on I always returned to visit mom so it was also the apartment which I lived in during my twenties. In fact when my mom and I left for Riga, Latvia I was already in my 30s and the last time I closed the door to this apartment I had the strangest feeling a feeling like I was leaving the only home I had ever really known.
The apartment at 267 Ovington Ave. was also with the apartment number of 5B so somewhere in my life this number and letter must have a significant meaning of some sort. Now this might not mean a hill of beans to a lot of you but if you can understand how you can get used to a place then I can say that if at all possible this would be the apartment I would want to return to, rent once more, and live out the rest of my days in. I got awfully attached to it. Sort of like when people get attached to their family homes.