My apartment is located on the street directly across from the hospital where my Dad died almost one year ago. I moved into it 2 months after he died in an emotionally reactive need to escape from my present surroundings. I wake up every morning and see the sun come up from behind the building where my Dad left this world. I drive past it every day and do not give it a second thought. My street was populated briefly with friends on 7/6/2021 when I moved into the apartment and they helped me get my furniture inside. Half a mile down my street is my favorite bar and my favorite diner right next to each other, another half mile from there is my favorite ice cream shop. When I get home from work I sit in my car and stare at the gas station that is on the other end opposite the bar, and I wait for the motivation to go inside the apartment again.
I think my street represents loss of some kind. Like if my life were a series of books. This street would be loss.