Moving is... bittersweet. I love going through my stuff that I have, purging myself of crap I don't need, finding things I had forgotten I had. And the ever popular, "why the hell do I still have this?" moments. I'm not gonna lie, I am a pack rat. By no means am I at hoarder status, but I do hold on to some things that I should just let go. I am guilty of keeping movie and concert ticket stubs. Not from every single event, but the one's that hold sentimental attachment for me. I have some old greeting cards, again, sentimental attachment. Finding these things make me remember really good times with great people!! And 1, 3, or 10 years down the road, when I rearrange my things, or move again... I will come across said items and go, "Holy shit, I remember going to this concert! It was awesome!" or "I remember getting this card when I was moving to Chicago" or "Damn, I still have that police report?!" And someday if/when I have kids, I will show these things to them!
However, on the other side to this, I am leaving a place behind. A place that I had inhabited for almost 2 years. I know 2 years isn't that long, but considering what a BIG move I made to Chicago, and what events in my life the last 2 years have held, it seems like it's been longer. The bare walls of this apartment that I am leaving seem to be staring at me and asking "are you sure?" (that also might be my mother's resonating voice in my mind from a phone call that just ended) Yes, I am sure. It's something that needs to happen. Hearts have been broken, tears have been shed, lives have been changed. My time here on Campbell Avenue has come to an end...you will be missed.
Hello to Leavitt Street, and my new abode, I promise good times to you! Please show me the same in return. And fair warning dear new apartment...you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into!
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