I think everyone has a special place in their heart for the first place they lived truly on their own. I can't think of the Airplane Bungalow on Roanoke without thinking of Phil. A week ago I went to his going away party. "Some Nights" by Fun. came on and the dance floor went a little crazy. Brie said, "Remember Phil and Bob dancing to this in your kitchen?"
Instantly I got flooded with nostalgia. Of course I remember dancing in the kitchen, because it was huge and we always had a sink full of dirty dishes that could only get washed if the right music was on. When we moved out, I cleaned the bottom cabinets for the first time and found the hole to the outside that the mice were using for transport. Doesn't take away from how awesomely huge that kitchen was.
I worked nights in that house, so Phil would sometimes wake up in the morning and come downstairs to find me asleep at the dining room table. Our basement was as scary as the one in Home Alone and you never knew what kind of Westport riffraff was going to walk down the sidewalk talking to himself. We had a study, a conservatory, and a library (WITH BUILT IN BOOKSHELVES), and a porch couch. You may think having a porch couch signifies white trash, but we would heartily disagree. Porch couch means perfect summer nights with friends and beverages.
I learned a lot about being a grown-up (when I wanted to be) in that house. And when I moved out, I think life got a little more serious. But what I miss most is not the house, but Phil. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect roommate and friend. After moving to our new homes, I didn't get to see him nearly as much as I wanted to. But so many of my good memories from that time in my life have him in there somewhere. He is one of the MOST talented people I think I will ever meet, and I'm so proud of him for working his ass off and getting after his dreams. He and Mandy will have wonderful adventures, and they are going to be in my thoughts and prayers often.
Best of luck, old friend. Your city misses you already.
