I collect windchimes. When I first began life on my own, my first roommate and I found a MASSIVE 3 foot tuned windchime at the beach for $30, and we put it up at our apartment. I let her have it when we moved out on our own, but I still miss it. So I started collecting from there…The only place I couldn’t hang them was in Montana, and I missed the cackle and bang on the multi-faceted sounds of the chimes.
When Kevin & I lived on College Ave, I had many windchimes. A Butterfly, Bug, one small tuned, shell chimes, a fish, and the one long tuned windchime that Kevin gave me for our first Christmas together. The cherished chime. All went with me, except for the shell chimes. It was on the north side of the house, and took a BEATING through the winter. It was too broken and bruised for me to bother to bring with, so I left is on the plant hanger outside the North window.
Whenever I drive down College Avenue, which hasn’t been my home for over year and a half, I still feel nostalgic waiting at the red light at Lemon and College looking at what was our front porch. Where Kevin grilled nearly every night, where we would sit with a lager and a cigar enjoying the sticky air of summer watching the neighbors pass by with dogs, one even with a monkey on his shoulders. We’d chat with our elderly neighbor Ruth, her son Jeff, and their boisterous dog. We would laugh, and enjoy the moments. I even drug Kevin out for a parade one day-I LOVED parades, he hated them. When friends were over, we’d congregate on the large porch, on the steps, or on the front lawn. We put our dozens of pots out in the spring planted with peppers, and tomatoes, and other fresh goodies and they thrived facing the Western setting sun. Hanging above the porch were my windchimes-quiet in the serene air, clanging in the storms.
When I pass now, there are no chimes. No chairs. Not even a little table like we had. There are no plants, and there are no chimes: at least, none on the porch.
However, there is still one chime that hangs…the broken and battled shell chime on the Northern facing window hangs in remnants. If the wind were grand enough, I’m sure it would make a noise with it’s pieces of shells left, but they’re barely noticeable behind the overgrown bush. I doubt the tenants that have lived there since Kevin & I even noticed its existence. But whenever I pass the College Ave apartment, I always notice the windchime. And I’ll never forget the memories.
This is my first time browsing your site, so I’m only now just learning the meaning behind your Twitter handle. So sorry for your loss. I probably walked past your wind chimes occasionally on my way to the dog park when we lived on Mary Street. I always wondered who that man with the monkey was. You didn’t mention the twins married to twins. Here’s my post about our move from the city: