Last night I walked by the first place I lived off campus. It was in the Fall of 1998 and I lived with 8 people, some I knew well and some that I would become better friends with. Each time I pass my old place of residence my eyes are glued to 'my' window. I try to theorize about who is living in the house now, what are they like, are they having as much fun as we did and do the neighbors give them as much of a hard time.

As I slowly walk by I have this urge to knock on the door and ask to look around. I want to see if the bathroom faucet leaks, if the master bedroom is still easy to break in, and if the kiddie pool is still in the backyard. Mostly I want to see if there are any memories that I left behind.

I miss the times of living with 8. It was a unique family and we had family meals every Sunday night and watched the Simpsons and X-files (before it sucked). I miss always having someone to hang out with. It was guaranteed that someone would not want to be working and it was my duty to help that person out. The best thing about remembering about the past is that you can conveniently forget about the bad.