I am grateful for my experiences of living in an apartment complex. As a teachers’ kid, I mostly knew the world of cul-de-sacs. Sure, we lived in rentals, and our first house was a double-wide, but growing up I never knew what it was like to share your walls with strangers.

But as a kid, I wouldn’t have noticed the significance. As an adult, I’ve loved this working class grit: hear the neighbors making love, hear them binge on Netflix, see them working on their cars as I feed the washing machine. The one on the right has never really worked, and the dryers will just eat your change unless you set them to extra high heat.

I remember when the cops tiptoed past our window to handcuff the dealer two doors down. I remember the Draconian child-rearing with which I disagreed, or the domestic disputes which still haunt my tender heart. They still haunt my tender heart.

But I also remember seeing kids of different races playing games across the crumbling pavement of the derelict tennis court, shooting hoops in the one basket still standing. Seeing families make a home out of units all the same - some of them had such character with their patio potted plants and cozy grill setups with tacky patriotic decorations.

As I leave this place, it saddens me that I never knew these folks: the quiet nerds who lived next door and had their groceries delivered, or the family who’d have deliciousness wafting out their window after midnight when they finally got home, or all the tattooed young adults living paycheck to paycheck whose lives were probably not all that different from my own. They were probably not all that different from my own.

When I first moved in, I naively thought this was a real chance for community. I’ve always romanticized the idea of a friendly neighborhood with communal block parties and open-door policies. But I should’ve known all along that wouldn’t happen here, seeing as I’ve never experienced that anywhere. Even in trusting hick-town Wyoming, the neighbors still maintained a frosty veneer. I guess in our culture of social distance, proximity’s not enough reason for someone to welcome you in. But I’ll still keep an open heart, just in case.