Platial | Who and What's Nearby
Platial | Who and What's Nearby
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It’s easy to see how this place is completely different from my home, my apartment, my life. I baby-sit for the *Smiths* five nights a week, and some weekends. Though they live in the same town as me, and not too many miles away, they might as well live in another country, another world, another universe. While I find my own apartment an undeserved luxury with it’s three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and modest living and cooking areas, this house puts anything I’ve known to shame. It’s two houses wide with three spacious floors. Each floor has its own set of rooms, bathrooms, and recreational space. Though the family has two children under the age of three and three obnoxious rottweiler dogs, they still insist on every toy being in its place, every rug vacuumed, every germ killed. There’s always something going on here, but its always pure chaos and uncontrolled energy. They have more money than anyone I’ve ever met in my life, literally… they can (and do) afford anything they want, no expenses spared. When I park my slightly beat-up 1996 Sunfire in their driveway, it makes its own statement among their foreign cars and SUV’s. I’m not jealous of their money or their life, like I thought I would be. Even though they can buy whatever they want, they don’t see the falling snow the way that I do—new every winter, catching glints of sunshine, magically declaring Christmastime to the neighborhood every season. They don’t appreciate proximity to Chicago the way I do—through a foreigners eyes, exciting expectations, mysterious wonder. They can’t, with all of their money and things, convince me to leave my cozy apartment and simple life.
It’s easy to see how this place is completely different from my home, my apartment, my life. I baby-sit for the *Smiths* five nights a week, and some weekends. Though they live in the same town as me, and not too many miles away, they might as well live in another country, another world, another universe. While I find my own apartment an undeserved luxury with it’s three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and modest living and cooking areas, this house puts anything I’ve known to shame. It’s two houses wide with three spacious floors. Each floor has its own set of rooms, bathrooms, and recreational space. Though the family has two children under the age of three and three obnoxious rottweiler dogs, they still insist on every toy being in its place, every rug vacuumed, every germ killed. There’s always something going on here, but its always pure chaos and uncontrolled energy. They have more money than anyone I’ve ever met in my life, literally… they can (and do) afford anything they want, no expenses spared. When I park my slightly beat-up 1996 Sunfire in their driveway, it makes its own statement among their foreign cars and SUV’s. I’m not jealous of their money or their life, like I thought I would be. Even though they can buy whatever they want, they don’t see the falling snow the way that I do—new every winter, catching glints of sunshine, magically declaring Christmastime to the neighborhood every season. They don’t appreciate proximity to Chicago the way I do—through a foreigners eyes, exciting expectations, mysterious wonder. They can’t, with all of their money and things, convince me to leave my cozy apartment and simple life.
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