Comm Av 1979
Each night I walk my dog just before heading up to bed. Every night I follow the same steps as I go back inside. I pull the storm door shut and lock it before I turn my back to the outside world. I am always reminded of the night where that tiny little voice of intuition may have saved my life.
Back in the late 1970s, I had an apartment on Boston's famed Commonwealth Avenue. I was the typical example of a single woman in my twenties. I had a good job, a new car and lived alone. It was not uncommon for me to park my car behind the building, walk around the front through a dark little path, all hours. I wasn't seeing anyone, so there was no doting boyfriend but friends with apartments near mine dotted the neighborhood, giving me that false hometown feel of relative security. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew about the rapes and heard about the women found murdered. But wasn't that almost twenty years before and wasn't someone in jail for that? I always told myself I was worrying for nothing.
But then there was that one night, I don't remember exactly what time it was, either just before dawn or 2AM. I parked my Mustang behind the building as usual and gathered my things. As I walked towards the front of the building I made note of the fact that it was eerily quiet. There were no trains going by and very little if any traffic. Certainly, I saw no one walking,
My building was a typical brick, multi-unit apartment structure with a glassed-in lobby where the mailboxes were then a couple of steps up to the locked glass door to get into the building. I'd already checked the mail for the day so I didn't need to stop there. My keys were also in my hand, laced through my knuckles, just in case, but ready to unlock the door, none the less.
Once inside I did it, I turned to pull the door shut behind me to make sure it locked. To my shock and amazement, there was a hand just reaching for the door handle as I heard the lock click. I gasped and wondered for a split second how polite I should be at this ungodly hour. I saw no key in his hand. We locked eyes. I saw no request in them. Instead, I felt like the deer that missed the arrow by inches and ran up the stairs to the safety of another locked door.
Breathless, I entered my front-facing apartment and crawled to the trio of windows overlooking the avenue for a sign of him. I sat in the dark, on the floor, clutching my kitty for comfort afraid to alert the hunter where his prey lived. I listened intently for the possible opening of the front doors, just one floor below.
I may have waited for the sun to rise before I went to bed that morning. I know the encounter flicked a little switch in me. I have had my share of dangerous encounters in my life and that had seemed sure to have been another, had I not had the intuition to pull that door shut to lock. We just never know but I will say that I try very hard to listen to my intuition. When I hear it, as clearly as I had that night, it never steers me wrong. I suppose the trick is to never convince yourself that nothing can happen, surely that's when it will.
Back in the late 1970s, I had an apartment on Boston's famed Commonwealth Avenue. I was the typical example of a single woman in my twenties. I had a good job, a new car and lived alone. It was not uncommon for me to park my car behind the building, walk around the front through a dark little path, all hours. I wasn't seeing anyone, so there was no doting boyfriend but friends with apartments near mine dotted the neighborhood, giving me that false hometown feel of relative security. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew about the rapes and heard about the women found murdered. But wasn't that almost twenty years before and wasn't someone in jail for that? I always told myself I was worrying for nothing.
But then there was that one night, I don't remember exactly what time it was, either just before dawn or 2AM. I parked my Mustang behind the building as usual and gathered my things. As I walked towards the front of the building I made note of the fact that it was eerily quiet. There were no trains going by and very little if any traffic. Certainly, I saw no one walking,
My building was a typical brick, multi-unit apartment structure with a glassed-in lobby where the mailboxes were then a couple of steps up to the locked glass door to get into the building. I'd already checked the mail for the day so I didn't need to stop there. My keys were also in my hand, laced through my knuckles, just in case, but ready to unlock the door, none the less.
Once inside I did it, I turned to pull the door shut behind me to make sure it locked. To my shock and amazement, there was a hand just reaching for the door handle as I heard the lock click. I gasped and wondered for a split second how polite I should be at this ungodly hour. I saw no key in his hand. We locked eyes. I saw no request in them. Instead, I felt like the deer that missed the arrow by inches and ran up the stairs to the safety of another locked door.
Breathless, I entered my front-facing apartment and crawled to the trio of windows overlooking the avenue for a sign of him. I sat in the dark, on the floor, clutching my kitty for comfort afraid to alert the hunter where his prey lived. I listened intently for the possible opening of the front doors, just one floor below.
I may have waited for the sun to rise before I went to bed that morning. I know the encounter flicked a little switch in me. I have had my share of dangerous encounters in my life and that had seemed sure to have been another, had I not had the intuition to pull that door shut to lock. We just never know but I will say that I try very hard to listen to my intuition. When I hear it, as clearly as I had that night, it never steers me wrong. I suppose the trick is to never convince yourself that nothing can happen, surely that's when it will.
Comments
Post a Comment