Apt. 4N
It takes me 3 steps to walk from my room to the living room. It takes me 12 steps to walk from the living to my front door. It takes me 72 steps to walk from my front door to be outside; an extra 35 steps if you choose to take the stairs over the elevator. The differences between living in an apartment and living in a house go beyond the steps. Who I am today is wholly influenced by living in an apartment.
In these past 17 years, I have watched my building go from having an abundance of extremely young people, to of extremely older people. Although some age groups overpowered others at times, there has always been a great mixture. Whenever I leave and or enter the building, I encounter people with my address. Sometimes only a simple greeting takes place like a “Hi, how are you?” and other times a conversation turns into a lengthy discussion. Regardless of the depth, I am interacting with people of all different ages, genders, races, and dispositions. When I was a child, I was forced into situations that I wasn’t fully comfortable with. Many children don’t typically enjoy talking to adults they aren’t familiar with yet. Unless you’re one of those super outgoing kids (which I was most definitely not). Through these forced conversations, I gained a strong sense of manners at a very young age. Eventually, these interactions that were once forced, transitioned into natural occurrences. From talking to a vast amount of people daily, I am easily accustomed to talking to people outside of my building. All those communications I engaged in at a young age, had a part in preparing me for the real world.
On my floor, there are teachers, personal trainers, firefighters, nurses and even an FBI agent. That’s just on my floor alone. You can easily imagine the array of people there are in my building as a whole. Within these occupations are single mothers, single fathers, soon-to-be mothers, families, as well as older couples that are still going strong! By growing up with an assortment of people, I learned a lot about life. Every person I have come into close contact with, within the 17 years of living in this apartment, has had an influence on me.
The single mothers and father have taught me the importance of courage. Remember that FBI agent I mentioned earlier? He’s a single father. A speech pathologist in the building, that I occasionally babysit for, is a single mother. These two individuals have shown me the sacrifices necessary to make as not only a parent, but especially as a single parent. I admire their abilities to balance jobs and children, as well as the unpredictabilities of life itself. The older people have taught me to live life to the fullest. I have seen too many senior citizens pass away in my building; several of whom had a grandparent-like role during my childhood. In my building, there’s one man in particular that consistently greets me with enthusiasm and energy so strong, that it instantly makes me smile (even on my worst days). This man is 91 years old. His energy has inspired me to appreciate life as it is, because you never know what day will be your last. From the civil service workers, to the professors, all the way to the newlyweds, I have gained knowledge.
As I am now close to reaching adulthood, my appreciation for my home goes above and beyond. Every conversation has shaped the person I am today. From expanding as a communicator, to progressing as a human, my building truly “built” me. Within the 72 steps it takes me to walk from my front door to be outside, I’m one “step” closer to being the best person I can possibly be.
