My very first apartment.

From the time I first started making cash money through jobs, babysitting, chores, etc. I started purchasing items towards my first apartment. It was all I could do to bide the time till I was out of my Mother's house and in my own place. I lived for independence. There was one place in particular I wanted to live and I would settle for nothing less. I wanted to live in the renovated cotton mill a few towns over that they had turned into lofts.

After High School, I moved in with some friends while in limbo between living arrangements. It was two houses down from my Mother's house. Convenient, no? I was only there for a few months and I headed south for Florida to be with my best friend at the time. Naples was beautiful. Pricey, but beautiful. I still hadn't found a place to call my own though, and the lofts still called my name. When I literally fell into my airline career, I knew then that I would finally be on my own! I could get my loft! And then they stationed me in Chicago. To save money, I lived in the baggage area under the airport. Seriously. After 2 brutal months reeking of deicing solution and plane exhaust, I was confronted by my Inflight Manger who told me I finally had the seniority to be stationed in Atlanta. I took the first flight home, threw my friend in the car and went to secure my place in the Newnan Lofts. Nobody told me it was haunted until after the fact.

I lived minimally. Making my own meals! From scratch! Just for myself and nobody else but me! I had people over! I EVEN HAD PARTIES! HOSTED! IN MY OWN APARTMENT! It was a bliss nobody could have prepared me for. Sure at night you could hear children running up and down the hallway slamming doors. Sure there were times my dog would bark at absolutely nothing. Sure sometimes my milk would be on the counter when I came home from a 3 day trip. I thought nothing of the blasts of cold air coming from my speakers or the fact that my t.v. would turn itself back on minutes after turning it off. They were all just added bonuses of living in a 100 year old cotton mill.

 What you don't see is the loading dock I would back my car up to, unload 2 weeks worth of groceries and dog food, park the car and then slide every last grocery bag up each arm and power through those damn stairs. I do not miss those stairs even though my legs were probably the most toned they'd ever been in my life during that period.

Many cases of Natural Light Natty Light were enjoyed poolside. This pool will probably also be the first place I think of if I ever get diagnosed with skin cancer.

 

Despite the ghosts, the time I spent there was the best time of my life. I started dating my (now) Husband while I was there, so the romance that budded there still intoxicates me and swims through my veins whenever I think of apartment C204. The short walk to downtown during Spring and Summer still warms my skin and makes me think of the bookshops with their "Free" tables out front. The smells of hot metal after the train would pass through town still scorches my nose. I miss the lofts. I miss the nostalgia of freedom and days open to doing whatever I pleased. It was my first place and of course it will forever hold a special place in my heart.