Moving Emotions

I started packing yesterday. I move next Sunday to my new apartment. This morning, as I scanned the boxes that are beginning to pile up and the boxes yet to be filled with my life, I became a bit saddened. It's the end of a period of my life and the start of another. It's funny, because I wasn't sad about my last move of apartments. I think I am having a bittersweet reaction to this one because of the memories of the last three years that this place holds. What have these walls seen and heard?

They have seen me cry after losing my mom. They heard me talk to her. They've looked on as I curled up into the fetal position to let my emotions loose.

They have seen me laugh with friends. They've heard the sharing that has taken place between people that trust one another to be honest about who we are and what we struggle with.

These walls saw me as I hunched over Dusty's lifeless body early one Sunday morning in December of 2009. They heard me wail, "Please don't go!" as I held her body at the same time rigor mortis was setting in. They watched me carry her out to be cremated at the vet.

They heard the words, "I love you" from N for the first time. They also got to watch and listen as he told me ten months later that he no longer loved me and wanted to end the relationship. These walls have seen me shed countless tears as a result. They have heard my anguish.

The walls see and hear me as I greet Kirby upon entering the front door. They see what he does during the day, which will always be a mystery to me.

These walls have witnessed my transformation. I am not the same person that moved in here three years ago.

The one thing I have that walls don't, though, are memories. I get to take them with me. And as I move forward and into another apartment, I will make more memories. That's the thing about life. Memories are made every day.

"Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose." ~ Kevin Arnold