our house at the end of the world 🏠
the apartment that led us here
I was sitting in the passenger seat of Brian’s Chevy Trax when we saw our future apartment for the first time. Despite going through the StreetEasy portal and emailing the broker externally, there was still no answer after 20 minutes. I chose to ignore the fact it was a Sunday in June. I left two voicemails.
When I finally heard from a human that yes, this apartment, was in fact real, I started calling it our apartment. Brian and I found an apartment, I would say to no one but myself. I’d look into the mirror, give myself a little wink in the bathroom and go about my day.
This is probably bad luck. But someone was on our side, rooting for us.
The morning of the open house, the Canadian wildfire smoke engulfed my office on 6th avenue. I was absolutely sure no one else in the entire five boroughs would be brave enough to venture out to East Williamsburg to visit this building. This was a climate emergency, but in the world of New York City real estate, it felt like a good omen. I left work at three for a five o’clock appointment.
The line to view the apartment was long. It didn’t matter. A couple in front of me asked if I knew anything about the application. I lied and told them I didn’t. Meanwhile, we sent in our licenses and bank forms days before.
There’s a painting of flowers on the first floor. The apartment felt familiar, like a familiar place we must have attended a dinner party at years before. There’s a Vietnamese coffee shop down the road.
One of the rooms is much bigger than the other. There was a girl on FaceTime with her prospective roommate having terse conversation about which room would be whose.
Neither of them, ladies! Get lost! This is our apartment!
I put on two surgical masks to venture through the smoke, but I still winked at myself in what would eventually be our bathroom mirror.
When I left, I scoped out the block. There would be enough space to park the Chevy Trax.
You couldn’t see how spectacular the view was because of the haze. When we moved in and I saw the World Trade Center peaking out, it felt like I was in a comic book with animated text hovering over me. And in a galaxy far, far, away, that’s Manhattan! You’d never know this building was in New York until you walked up to the fourth floor and saw it for yourself.
That was July. It’s now March. The painting of flowers is still there. We found a copy of the Torah in the hall closet. The couch we bought together broke her leg. We learned you can order replacement furniture legs on the Internet. The Chevy Trax is parked right outside.
We got our lease renewal this morning. We’re planning to stay a while.
