I loved my apartment - it was all mine and I loved it. I put a lot of work into (and even more that I never wrote about.) It looked like me. And even though my neighbors were less than desirable and it was pretty small, I'll miss it.
I've been moving things slowly over the past few weeks, but last week, my brother and I loaded the rest into a van and stuffed my Jeep to the gills with the rest of my stuff.
I dropped some off at my parents and moved the rest into my new place.
Living on my own was one of the best experiences I've had - I didn't have to worry about being woken up, or waking anyone up; I could clean and do laundry when I pleased. But most of all, I supported myself - I was on my own. No one to help with bills, no one to make me do things, just me. I learned a lot about myself over the year I lived there and I am over the moon grateful for the opportunity.
I went back to finish up and it looked so small. For some reason, when my furniture and books, and clothes and shelves were in there, it looked much bigger than it actually was. Maybe it was all the personality I put into it spilling out.
I moved to a new town, in a new county. And I'm no longer by myself.
But I'm so very much looking forward to sharing my space with two of my favorite people.
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