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To my first apartment,
You were the home I never really wanted--
But at the time didn’t know I actually needed.
When my family moved me in, I was so afraid
After they left, I just sat and cried in the sparsely decorated living room that first night
How was I an adult already? Who let me move out on my own! Where were my friends? How would I do this all alone?
I saw you as the physical embodiment and constant reminder of my closest friends hurting me.
But, over time, things changed. I looked forward to coming home and being in my own space. It was mine, and I took care of it, and I loved it.
I’ll miss the memories I made there. From moving in, learning to cook (to a limited extent), nights spent with friends and family there, a fair share of cheap wine and fancy cheese, and even the hours spent studying. Because, I will never get those moments or those experiences back again.
I’ll miss laughing with my friends about how nothing good ever happens on the front porch.
Seriously though, nothing positive ever took place on that porch.
The irony of my neighbors threatening to sue me for parking in my assigned parking spot.
Learning how to cook (and grocery shop)
Learning how to decorate for different seasons and holidays (Grace always did that home).
My first (mini) christmas tree!
Air drying all my laundry because the dryer broke and was never replaced.
Or how it took me comically long to realize how long the shower water took to heat up.
Those nights I couldn’t stand studying anymore, so I’d throw on a record and push all the chairs to the corner of the room and have a personal dance party because I knew no one could see me.
Nights running to and from the bars with friends, freezing while wearing way too little clothes for the weather because we didn't want to bring a jacket. Complaining, but laughing the entire time.
And so much more. There was so many firsts, and probably a few lasts. For example, I hope to not have air drying laundry in my future.
At first I resented you-- as a symbol of how my closest friends had decided to go on without me. But now, I celebrate you. I celebrate you as a symbol of my value and independence. You become the physical embodiment of how strong I was. Together, we learned that I really can do anything and tomorrow likely holds a better day that I can't even imagine. That, everything really does happen for a reason.
So as I strip the walls and throw things out and you start to feel a little more bare, in preparation of me moving out, I feel a mix of sadness to lose you while I'm excited to live with friends. It will be hard to drive by and think that someone else is standing in my living room. But, it'll pass. However, I doubt the appreciation I grew for you won't.
And if you're wondering what happened on the porch-- a lot. Everything from several inebriated old men, a breakup, a stolen windchime (RIP), to a late night hookup (definitely not me, but rather some sexually adventurous strangers), and several other honorable mentions.
