I've started packing my apartment. And, I'm finding, with each box I pack, that I have very mixed emotions about the whole process.
I moved here four years ago last month. I remember the day I moved in so well. I accepted a job I wasn't sure I'd like just two weeks before. I came down with my mom, decided to live in the third apartment I looked at, and before I knew it, we were loading up a Uhaul and making the Highway 75 trek from Plano to Tulsa.
This has been a good home for me. I know the trail nearby like the back of my hand. I fall asleep to the sounds of busy sirens on Memorial. My cabinets are "baby-proofed" due to an overly curious cat who once lived here. I said "I love you" here to someone really special for the first time.
I've had parties, game nights, celebrations and lots of laughter here. And I've had heartache and tears and sleepless nights here, too.
I'm trying not to tie up all of those memories to this place. I can take them with me, after all. They don't have to be packed up with the pictures and candles and books.
But some of those memories are being put away, whether I like it or not. Some things will be left here, in this apartment, the day I turn in my key.
Change is hard. But the unpacking in a new home, the new memories to be made... that makes it all worth it.
Berry + Cream Cheese Breakfast Pastries
20 hours ago