From Moving in to Moving on

Our Resident Leader, Jana Arnold, reflects on the changes that 8 months in 75 Blake Street can bring for both the students and residents, as well as the home itself.

Moving in

It’s September 2, 2024. The “welcome” banner hangs above the porch as Abby sits at the check-in table in the front yard. The dining room holds our swag store, ready for the new arrivals. One by one, the students slowly arrive, carrying boxes and laundry hampers, clothes hangers, and bins labelled with their last names. People exchange sweaty handshakes over stumbled greetings. 

The home feels full and thick with the anticipation that we are on the brink of something big, and yet we are all still strangers. We are teetering on the edge of the drop into the rollercoaster of year six. We are all strapped in, some holding on for dear life, some with their hands raised ready to let the momentum take them, and some unsure which ride they have gotten on. 

Now, it is May, and those strangers from September 2 are more like family than friends. They have each now embarked on their own journeys away from Blake Street. “Moving out,” feels too strong of a phrase to capture the students’ and residents’ departure from Blake Street. Though they’ve packed up their belongings, emptied their rooms, and deep (deep!) cleaned the house, traces of their presence still linger in these walls.

More than the Brick and Mortar

For my part in our “Life on the Porch” publication (go give it a read!) I wrote a piece based on a painting I had done in reflection of this home. 

It reads:

“75 Blake Street. 

A towering red brick house, skirted by a paint-chipped porch where the light always stays on.

A pollinator garden borders the sidewalk, and the driveway reaches the backyard. 

The wallpaper is mismatched, and the electric sockets are on the floor. 

But it’s more than the brick and mortar of the place. 

As you move through the moments of each day

You become entwined between the bricks and the wallpaper, the sidewalks and the couches. 

You carry the tune to which the song of each day is sung. 

You become the drum that carries the beat to which the rhythms run.

Time moves quickly and all at the same time, moves so slowly. 

What is time anyway, when you are drawn into something? 

Something that has existed before you and will continue after you. 

It is more than the brick and mortar, and yet, not apart from it. 

75 Blake Street. 

It is a part of each person who has lived within its walls 

And each person who has lived within its walls is a part of it.” 

Moving on

There are few of us now at Blake Street, some new residents and those of us who have remained for the summer. And I can say with certainty, as someone living in this space both before and after this year’s cohort has come and gone that, “Each person who has lived within its walls is a part of it.” 

“You carry the tune to which the song of each day is sung. 

You become the drum that carries the beat to which the rhythms run.”

The residents and students have filled the basement carpet with laughter, etched the wallpaper with late-night chats, and left the kitchen tiles marked with footprints from dance parties over dishes. Each year this home holds the moments and memories that mark each cohort, and this year was no exception. 

Part of our second semester is to prepare students to leave this place. We equip them to carry what they’ve lived here into their current spaces and wherever they find themselves next. Through the resistance of pain and the realisation of the inevitability of it, hearts for hospitality, wrestling with new concepts and asking questions, and celebrating together in community, this home and place has become, “a part of each person who has lived within its walls.” 

Year six was the smallest cohort that Act Five has had, which brought up questions about what might pivot because of numbers. This year’s community brought with it such extensive gifts though, made all the more evident because of their small size. Megan cared for small details and protein ball meal prep (known as bird food to some) while Daniel brought the spontaneity and ability to bring people together. Liam was gifted with willingness and improvisation in the kitchen and Autum brought generosity and creativity. Miranda showed heart and care for creation. Amy gave the gift of leadership and bold strength, and Nina showed us curiosity and deep laughter. 

At graduation, as tears fell from their eyes, our students held each other and leaned into the community they had built—through laughter, unplugging, leaning in, conflict, transition, and authenticity—and began to wrestle with the thought of moving on. This small cohort knew each other deeply and loved each other well. They called Hamilton home. Each sought connections with our friends at L’Arche and created relationships with the families at Micah House. They climbed the Wentworth stairs and planted seedlings in our backyard. Together they have fought for vulnerability, offered laughter and grace to one another, and have discovered strength and resiliency.

As our sixth gap year sits in our rear view window and we start to look ahead to year seven on the horizon, I am excited and hopeful about how each year has a part in shaping the next. As our students and residents carry on, I hope they continue to discover the ways that they carry Act Five with them into their new places and I hope they know of the impact they leave behind here.