I wrote this two years ago on my birthday. Since I’m back around to some of the numbers here (35), I thought it was time to repost it. Street names have been changed for privacy.
Numbers are generally not significant to me, but a few years ago I started to notice a pattern in addresses. (My very first apartment is excepted from this pattern, as it has been from most memories–like it deserves).
The first decent apartment I lived in was at 301 W 33rd St. We happened to live there for 3 years. As much as we enjoyed our time in that apartment, we started to want something with rooms. We ended up at 1313 Charles Place. This was when I first took note of a pattern of 1s and 3s.
1313 was a glorious apartment on the 3rd floor of a historic row house in the Bolton Hill neighborhood of Baltimore. With 12 foot ceilings, the 3 living room windows let in so much light you couldn’t help but be happy when you sat there. The house plants thrived and we were happy.
We lived in 1313 Charles for 1 year.
Then we had the opportunity to buy a house. What started as a casual experiment to see if we were even able to get into the housing market turned into being under contract within a week of first contacting our realtor. After a few struggles, we finally closed on 311 Gateway Ct.
311 was a gem. It literally didn’t have a road in front of it. The front door opened into a grassy courtyard shared by six other homes. Like most areas in Baltimore, it was in direct proximity to incredible wealth (we bordered a glorious historic neighborhood) as well as tragic poverty. A half mile east was a five-million dollar mansion, a half mile west were slums with boarded up homes and murder rates that boggled the mind. But it was our perfect shelter in exactly the right location.
311 was where the two of us became 3, bringing our son home to the little house we worked so hard to make our own beautiful home.
After 3 years at 311 it was time to move again. This time though, to another state. Almost ten years in Baltimore made it feel like home. We loved it for its ruggedness, unpredictability, and yes, it’s charm. People who haven’t lived there truly don’t understand, but once you’re there it gets its hooks into you very quickly.
Buying a house out of state was daunting, and we were moving to a red hot housing market. “Unfortunately, this is a very difficult place to buy a house right now,” was the first thing our realtor said when I contacted him.
A few offers didn’t go through (some with frightful Lost Cause themed addresses, which we’re thankful for). Then finally, a perfect mid-century style ranch house came on the market. We made a no regrets offer and were closing a few weeks later. The address: 1305 West Butler.
That 5 kind of bothered me at first. But, after 3 straight addresses made of 1s, 3s, and 0s, I allowed for the addition of one more digit. It didn’t fully make sense though. Why 5? The next stage for our family would be 3 + 1 = 4. A tidy sum numerically and biologically. We had discussed trying for a fourth, and after the move we decided it was time. We quickly met with success, but through an act of divine zygotic fission, we were to skip four for all but a few minutes. At the end of my 31st year, twins girls entered the family.
Now we’re not three. We’re five.