We went to Eastern Market. |
My first Saturday staying in the city, we went to Eastern Market to get food for the weekend. It was the first time I’ve gone to Eastern Market without my family, and it was interesting.
As a kid, I remember coming to Eastern Market with my mom and grandmother. We would go on a Saturday, and we’d get spices from Rafel’s and cheese from Hirt’s, and we’d get fruits, vegetables and plants, too. Both of those buildings are filled with different businesses now.
It was different, when I went this time. I felt a little aimless, because I didn’t go to market with a goal, it came from more of a curiosity.
I find it funny, how I’m building my memories of Detroit atop my family’s memories. I’m living at Metropolitan United Methodist Church, and I know that the United Methodist Churches my mom and grandparents and great-grandparents attended are all closed now. My mom worked in the Fischer Building when I was little, and we go to see movies in the park across the street now. My grandmother was a nurse, and she worked in community mental health in southwest Detroit, and now I go to southwest for mango-chile ice cream.
I looked up the houses where my parents each grew up, and the house my great-grandparents owned. They’re all abandoned now.
I have deluded daydreams of buying one of them, fixing it up, and living in this jumble of memories that aren’t even mine. It’s an awful idea, I know, but I can’t help but wonder.