My first apartment was on Main Street in Lewiston. I loved it. Located on the same side as Central Maine Medical Center, the brick building was built in the ’30s. Although it no longer had its former glory, the building still had its charm. I lived on the third floor.

Because of the convenient location, after arriving home from teaching high school at Edward Little in Auburn, I could walk downtown to the stores in Lewiston. On the way was Sam’s and the delightful Mary’s Candy Shop. Peck’s Department Store was on the corner and in the center of town, among others, were Ward Brothers and Benoit’s.

Although my apartment was furnished and decorated (thanks to the help of my family), as my father might say, I was not “very domestic.” My meals were unhealthy desserts or mostly made in a toaster oven. One occasion when I had attempted a quiche in a regular oven, somehow the tinfoil caught on fire. My date, who was later that night going to chaperone the high school formal with me, gallantly put out the flames. And the quiche was fine.

Nancy, my best friend, and I used to dine at all the restaurants around: The Cellar Door, No Tomatoes Lounge, Steckino’s, and the new Graziano’s in Lewiston. For four years I lived in Lewiston until I moved back to South Portland. Once in a while, I will drive by my old apartment,look up to the third floor, and feel nostalgic.

I am a firm believer that the past meets the present.So after having made the discovery that condo life was not for me, these many years later, I find myself back living in town, again in an old brick building, However, this brick building was built in the mid 1800s and is in Portland.  And I live on the first floor, which my achy feet are thankful for.

Although I’m no longer young, I feel energized living in the city. I am surrounded by beautiful Victorian buildings. I  can smell the ocean when I step outside onto my courtyard, and I can hear the seagulls, which I missed living in Lewiston.

I have walked around my neighborhood, down Congress St , and into the Old Port. Nearby is Station A, where Mr. Conroy, our old neighbor in South Portland, took the bus in to work. Also is the old Portland Library, where my father would take us to the Children’s Room every Saturday morning.

At my age, the night life isn’t appealing, but the restaurants are. My friend Marcia and I have walked to two quaint restaurants and plan a trip to the Art Museum.

There are so many places to discover. I feel like someone who’s moved to a brand new city. But in actuality, it’s a city I have lived in, if on the outskirts, for 22 years. “I wish I’d lived downtown years ago,” I often find myself saying. But then I remind myself, “But I’m doing it now.”

— Special to the Telegram

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