As I sit and stare at the mess of my living space, I get haunted by the feelings of sadness, frustration, and happiness. In this place where the hallway to my bedroom was my kitchen and where my dining room and living room were the same room; I bravely acknowledge that this two room apartment has been my place of peace. In this apartment I have had some of the best times. This two room apartment was witness of my growth and self-discovery.
Although, I know that the ending to this journey was inevitable I am still not immune to the bittersweet feeling and not wanting to left go of this place that I once hated with a passion. It is a funny thing, three years ago I did not know this place, this cohort, and this part of me. I do not want to imagine what would my life would be without this experience. It should be no surprise that packing is not only a chore that I despise but it is the dose of reality that loudly announces that my time here is coming to an end.
I am not going to keep a countdown because countdowns are complete nonsense. To keep count of how time escapes us and how the days will pass by and become a history that we are rushing is a thought that is irrational to me. I want to enjoy my time left here and remember that I did things my way; which might have not been the best way but nonetheless it was my way. As I pack and prioritize which items come with me and which ones do not, I become scared of the new adventure ahead.
The question of whether I am going to miss this place is not an uncommon question however, it always leads to the same and simple solution of wanting things to stay the way they currently are. As I pack I am reminded of everything and it is strange to see how everything has changed. I walked in as a lost soul looking for clarity and now I am leaving with a clear mind into a world that might push me towards a surprising path.
I sit here in a room full of boxes and all I can think of is how is it going to be? What is my life going to be after this experience? Am I going to see the people that have changed me? Can things really stay the way they are now?
I know the answers to these questions will be answered in due time. I want to believe that I at least have the memories of the past two years to remind me of a great experience. I remember my first dinner party, I remember the multiple marriage proposals which were a result of delicious salsa and green chicken enchiladas. I remember the posse dinners, I remember crying like a little girl and having my dear soul sister next to me telling everything would be okay. I remember "talk like Yoda" days at the office, I remember my first winter. I remember finding a new mentor and I remember the day I called this place home.
