Numbers. Seven and nine have held a particular attraction, mainly because they are usually associated with luck. And as such, I do find myself drawn to them. But more recently, another number has captivated me ....
The Aiea, Hawaii penthouse I lived in when first married was
#1704. It was located on Koauka Loop. The view overlooked Pearl Harbor and the weather was perfect. It was a luxurious and romantic way to start a marriage. Life was simple.
1983 brought a move back to to New England life in New Haven, Connecticut, just up the road from the majestic Yale University. The apartment, nestled at
725 Whitney Avenue, saw the excitement and anticipation of preparing for the birth of my first child. Not as plush as the Hawaiian penthouse, but conveniently located (location, location, location) The people I met there were intriguing and intelligent and adventurous.
In 1984, home ownership was the next step to being an adult and the family grew at
740 DeLaura Lane, in Virginia Beach, Virginia, home for 18 years. This house witnessed my deepest despair dappled with loneliness and yes, there was happiness, lots of happiness, but it was elusive happiness. Something was always missing .. Always.
Things got a bit wobbly in 2002 when my new address did not include a seven. The first and only home I have ever selected myself,
3580 Norland Circle. This home was the love of my life. I LOVED this house, the yard, the neighbors. Apparently seven was an imagined prerequisite, for it was in this home that I met my neighbor, my kindred spirit, and found a peace and contentment that had long been absent in my life. I was no longer waiting for someone to come home from far off places and it was liberating … exhilarating.
That healing part of my life ended in one abrupt moment when impulse won over logic. An overwhelming force grabbed hold of my reality and in a split second decision, I was being pushed to move on. 2005. It was not a choice, my soul said I must. Once again I was suffocated by tentacles taking bits and pieces of me. Squeezing me, squeezing the joy of life out of me. I had lost my liberation and lost my exhilaration and found myself at
26 Vista Avenue, back in Latham, New York.
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| 2005 "Before" |
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2008 "After"
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We’ve reached "26" ~ Finally. The twenty-six that this is all about.
The
"26" I am writing about has nothing to do with an address. "26" has nothing to do with numbers per se. The prattle that preceded was merely chatter. You just followed my travels, via my words, from Hawaii to Connecticut to Virginia, and eventually to New York. You read about bliss and despair. You were told a story and you were allowed to come to your own conclusions. Feelings surfaced while reading; maybe curiosity, maybe boredom, maybe the pinch of uneasiness.
All thanks to twenty-six. Twenty-six characters that is. Twenty-six letters (of the English language) alphabet.
The power held by these twenty-six letters is unfathomable, yet we take them for granted. They are capable of both good and evil.
Letters of the alphabet, formed into words, into sentences, into paragraphs; have the power to legally free a man or imprison him. To express love, or the pain of unreciprocated love. To convey good news or bad news. To share joy or sorrow. To tell a story, true or imagined. To instruct and forbid. And carved in stone, a headstone, letters are able to succinctly encapsulate for eternity a life once lived.
"JANE DOE, Beloved mother, wife, sister"
Sit back and think about how twenty-six arbitrary shapes … shape the world. Shape lives.
These 26 letters have become my friends and 'my therapist' - in the form of writing. My compilation of writings is a diary of sorts, a journal. Maybe one day, after I have passed, my words will be the part of me that survives - through my personal compositions and through my letters.
My fascination with the power of letters, of the words used to convey experiences and feelings, blossomed at
26 Vista Avenue. Tis merely a coincidence, or is it ?
