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The Brown Noser

It Seems Like Everybody Knows Everybody In My Small Crawlspace

Published Friday, December 5th, 2014

I’ve spent my whole life living in the same small crawlspace. Here, it seems like everybody knows everybody else, and quite frankly, it’s starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

I can’t go anywhere without running into someone I know. Just the other day, I went to the grocery nook and physically bumped into every single other person in the crawlspace. I wish I could just run errands without always having to see Dave, my neighbor from two feet down the floor.

As soon as I do anything, it immediately becomes the business of the whole crawlspace. When I kissed Larry at Harrison’s barbecue last September, every other person I know found out instantaneously! Word sure spreads fast in this small crawlspace. Is it so much to ask for a little privacy every once in a while?

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to leave—to see the rest of the house and the world! There are so many places that I have only seen in pictures and through the crack in the door. I wonder if the kitchen is as beautiful as it is in my dreams.

Also, there’s not a lot of opportunity in here for me, not a lot of room for personal growth. Sure, I could spend the rest of my life working for my father at the family restaurant section of the crawlspace. And sometimes that even sounds nice to me. But do I really want to take the easy way out? No. I want to get out of this crawlspace.

I’ve spent so many years of my life doing the same things. Every Sunday, I go to the church corner. Every Tuesday, I take a squirm around the park with Jeanine. At a certain point, you get sick of living life on repeat. I could go to New York City, where there’s more than one bar alcove and the air isn’t so stale.

I know that I will get out of here someday, but I will always have a special place in my heart for this crawlspace and everyone in it. And when I’m out in the world, where the ceilings are so high I can stand all the way up without hitting my head, I’ll be thankful for the community I grew up in.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll decide to raise my kids in this crawlspace.

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