Thursday, November 19, 2009


I have come to believe that our apartment carries some sort of psychic residue in it. Either that or I do. I wouldn't say it's a curse, but it's definitely a strange trend that I can't explain.

People come to our apartment door for help. People we don't know at all. I don't know if we're the only people that answer our door when someone knocks, and maybe these individuals have tried other doors before ours, but whatever the reasons is - people come to our apartment when they need sanctuary. We're like some sort of chapel. We give safety. And people can mysteriously tell this.

Several years ago, a woman came to our door in the middle of the night saying she had just been raped and needed to call the police. She came to OUR door and no one else's. I brought her water and gave her a dry pair of socks because she had been out in the rain. She was obviously drunk, but understandably upset and I sat with her until the police came to help. I gave her a glass of water before she left.

There used to be a kid downstairs that would come up when he really needed a ride to school because he had missed the bus trying to get his baby brother to a babysitter. It seemed like a relatively noble reason to have missed the bus, so I would help him whenever I could.

Another kid once came up once because he needed someone to help him with his homework. Why he thought I must be a random smart person that wouldn't mind helping with homework, I have no idea, but it happened and I helped and he had a good time doing it because he was with me.

Tonight, a young girl from upstairs came to our door because her mother's new boyfriend had just beaten her and she needed to call the police and find somewhere else to stay. I've never spoken to this girl before, but she came right to our door. I have no idea why. I gave her a big hug before she left and told her she could come back if she ever needed to.

I do not consider myself any kind of philanthropist. I lean towards mostly hate and ill will for the entirety of the human race. But when an individual comes to me for help, I'll suddenly do everything I possibly can to help them. I offered to drive this girl wherever she needed to go, but when she said her aunt's house was really far away I almost had her sleeping on our couch until I thought to call her a cab so she could be with people she knew. When the police came and took her statement, they then left to get the statement of her mother upstairs, and seemed to vanish, so I called the police department back for her to find out if they were going to provide her with an escort. I walked with her when she was too scared to go outside the apartment. I have no idea why I am compelled to do things for people that need me, but suddenly I can turn into everyone's mother at the blink of an eye.

Somehow my random nuturing must leave some sort of residue on the apartment, because people keep coming back. I just think it's weird that these things keep happening. This is not a particularly bad apartment complex or a violent neighborhood, but whenever something does happen, people come here. I've never had this happen at any other apartment I've lived in.

My number must be scrawled on some universal bathroom somewhere, "For a safe time, call Krista."

(Originally posted on July 14th, 2008)

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