Moving is the worst. It’s hard and it’s dusty, and you find that you own far more stuff than you ever thought you did. You find things that you thought were lost, and you break your back trying to heft your entire physical life from one place to another. You get sweaty and exhausted and then when all the work is over, you still need to figure out a way to put it all back together again.
But the worst part is that moving means goodbye. The end of an era. And it’s especially hard when it wasn’t your choice to move on.
As you may have figured out, I moved this weekend, leaving my very first apartment behind and parting ways with my roommate, Kaitlin. I never thought that I’d stay in that apartment forever, and I never thought that Kaitlin and I would live together forever. Honestly, I knew things were likely to be changing within a year or so…but it didn’t make it any easier to have change forced on me.
I know that change can be good. I really like my new apartment, and I’m looking forward to decorating it and making it a home. I’m excited to try living on my own for the first time. But standing in the middle of the empty apartment I’ve been living in for the past two and half years…I felt unfinished. Incomplete. Maybe moving is always like that; every other time I’ve left a place was for a predetermined reason, like the end of the semester. I didn’t see this one coming, and it feels like a part of my heart is still back in that duplex.
Still, I’m grateful for all the times I had there. Shower: thank you for always being unreasonably hot. Built-ins: thank you for being beautiful, holding lots of stuff and making me fall in love with the place from the beginning. Downstairs neighbors: thank you for having the quietest dog in the world. Friends: thank you for attending parties, crashing on the couch, dropping by for coffee, and generally bringing the apartment to life. Logan: thank you for introducing me to both the highs and lows of living with a cat. Kaitlin: thank you for always talking to me about Harry Potter (or Scientology). Thank you for making sure I was never killed in my sleep by dustbunnies. Thank you for introducing me to Chipotle and being there for the hard stuff and the fun stuff and the sad stuff and the awesome stuff. Thank you for being my roommate. Thank you for being my best friend. I know none of that will change (except for the part where you get the dustbunnies…you could definitely still do that, if you wanted to…), but it’s still sad to have to go through this shift when neither of us planned for it just yet. Even if you can’t trap me on my way to the shower to ask me about what I would do if I fell in love with a man who owned five cats, I know that you’ll still find a way to bring me these important questions.
Moving is hard. Moving on is hard. But both are parts of life, and, I hope, they both will be for the best in the end.