When I Lived in a Run-down Apartment Complex

When I lived in Saraland, Alabama where I attended college at the University of Mobile, I moved off campus the second semester so that I could afford my living expenses. Thankfully, my tuition was covered with scholarships and grants, but I still needed to come up with my basic living expenses. I lived in a three bedroom apartment with two roommates, and with the high humidity levels and less than impressive building methods, the floors creaked and the outdoor wooden stairs leading to our second story apartment, as well as the wooden railing on our balcony were considerably weathered.

I remember my early twenties as being the time in life that I was the most inspired to change things. Everything was new, and my optimism was at its highest. Next door to us lived a woman with her husband and young daughter, and I often stopped to chat with her on my way in or out of my apartment. I desperately wanted to spend time with her, as she was a lovely woman, probably not much older than me, who had not enjoyed the benefits of a life of reflection in the shadows of dedicated world changers like I had. One day I invited her over for tea, and I used my new tea set that my sister-in-law had sent me for my birthday. We talked about life, and she told me that when she and her family had tried to go to church, people looked down on them because of how they were dressed. We only managed to have tea that one time, and then, as had often happened in my life, I moved.

Four years later I had completed my bachelor’s degree and was commuting to Hattiesburg, Mississippi for my Master’s degree. I was in Saraland one day having tea with a friend of mine at a new tea shop, and our waitress was my old neighbor who I had invited over for tea. She was so happy to see me that she practically beamed, and she told me that she was so excited about her new job working at a tea parlor because she so loved that time that I had invited her over for tea.