Just passing through

I recently spent the night with my brother at his apartment.

He and his family are currently living in a three bedroom apartment in a large modern complex just off a major highway exit. They moved to Georgia last fall and are waiting for their home in Virginia to sell before buying another in their new city.

Just finding my brother was a challenge in that vast maze of identical box buildings, and I arrived only after calling so he could wave me down from the street.

"Nice apartment," I said, looking around. "How do you like it?"

"I hate it," he said with the vehemence of a man serving a wrongful prison sentence.

I understand. There's something transitional about living in an apartment that makes life less enjoyable when you're eager to put down roots in a new town. And when you add in noisy neighbors above you or on the other side of your bedroom wall and the other inconveniences that come with close proximity to a lot of strangers, the unpleasantness intensifies.

Teri and I enjoy our tiny castle in the Bayberry Woods as much as any place we've ever lived, and I prefer home ownership to apartment life. But I've happily resided in my share of apartments over the years.

I'm part hermit and adapt easily to apartment dwelling.

My most recent stint as a tenant came just a few years ago as Teri and I exchanged our lives in post-Katrina New Orleans for new lives in shining Birmingham.

That apartment was new, upscale and filled with all the conveniences of modern life. It had a beautiful swimming pool, a wonderful gym, a sparkling lake and the grounds were beautifully maintained. The staff was professional and helpful. I liked living there, even though it was never "home" and we were ready to buy a house as soon as the time came.

That was the year Teri and I spent more apart than together as I worked in Alabama and she completed her university duties in New Orleans. We saw each other mostly on weekends, and Teri thought of our Birmingham apartment as her mountain weekend retreat and an escape from the insanity that was New Orleans at that time.

Other apartments I've inhabited have ranged from beautiful to shoddy to ancient, but I enjoyed them all.

People don't move to an apartment complex to settle down. No matter how nice they are, an apartment is a transitional home by nature and people usually find themselves living in one because they are in the midst of major life or career changes. Intense sadness and supreme optimism mix easily at any big apartment complex.

When you're in an apartment, you're just passing through. Kind of a metaphor for life, don't you think?

There's something about that between time and the ephemerality of living in an apartment complex that I find intriguing. No one intends to live in an apartment complex forever and the neighbors come and go on a monthly basis. You get to know some of the folks on the other side of the wall, but most of your neighbors will always be strangers. That lack of community and responsibility provides a certain freedom and anonymity that you don't have when there's a lawn to maintain, neighborhood association meetings to attend and the repair list is all on you.

The freedom that comes with apartment living can be a nice thing at certain points in your life. Other times, the apartment complex can feel like a prison compound. That coin has two sides.