Wash and Burn

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/9d1cdc_d2696e76cf9b40089c361a3704d42fdc/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

Sometimes the beginning and the end loop back upon each other, creating an end scene that looks the same as the beginning. I lost my home in 2016 to a raging fire that began suddenly and stealthily, with a small, unassuming spark, but it quickly sprang to a monstrous size, fed by the hot, dry July air. The fire consumed my entire apartment building in Charlestown and then it roof hopped, trying to take others with it.

I had stood watching it from the sidewalk, helpless, with everything I owned trapped inside, waiting and hoping for the fire department to arrive soon. In a matter of hours, I was displaced, and days later, almost everything inside was declared unsalvageable. The displacement, however, was the most unsettling part. To have no room, no bed, no space to return to. I was just a body, alone and adrift in the world, at the mercy of others.

Three weeks after the fire, I walked into my new apartment on Washburn Ave. The smooth wood floors and stained glass accents greeted me. It was very empty and would remain so for a while, but it was a space for me. A place where I was safe, where I could rest. And the brightly colored sunlight and clean floors drew me in, soothed my soul. Everything had burned and now it would be washed.

Over six years, we have laughed about the voracious squirrels on the back porch, watched flash floods, lightning storms, and full moons on the front one, celebrated engagements, achievement milestones, and birthdays. We have watched vivid sunsets, hosted game nights, and partied to the early morning hours. It has been a safe haven from work frustrations and the sometimes overwhelming world events. We have grown and changed and begun new lives.

Now I walk out of it again, and it bids me adieu in the same way that it greeted me, with its shiny warm floors and sun-filled common spaces. It watched over me through some of my darkest days and years, holding my hand as I crawled, looking for the light. And so I eventually found it. I entered this space empty and I leave it empty. I am once again untethered, without a space to call my own, but this time I choose it, this time I step intentionally into the world, knowing it has things to show me, a path I am meant to discover and walk. I am my own home now.

I wish the next guests of Washburn Ave an equally blessed stay and a safe passage.