We moved. I was sad.
A few years ago I wrote a post about how many different places I've lived. Long story short, I've moved a lot. I'm something of a nomad, though not always by choice. We lived in our last apartment for almost 3 years. That's an eternity for me. The move was a good thing, but I still feel pretty sad about leaving our place.
We've lived the majority of our married life there. We've hosted so many friends and family members there. I went through graduate school there (mostly). Our baby was born there. We didn't just live there when she was born; she was literally born in that apartment. She took her first breaths there. She rolled over and crawled and cut teeth and said first words in that apartment.
I cried to see it all empty. All traces that we were ever there are gone: the carpets cleaned, the walls patched, the tubs scrubbed.
Goodbye apartment, goodbye old home. Thanks for everything.
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