Friday, April 15, 2016

Dear Little Apartment

We did not change as we grew older. We just became more clearly ourselves.
~Lynn Hall

I'll never forget the day I met you.

It was Memorial Day weekend. 3 years ago.

I was a newly single mom.

Ambitious. Determined. Scared.

In that moment, it felt like the entire world was against me and I was out to prove them all wrong.

I could do this. I would do this.

And here we are three years later-living proof that the hard days awaken the fighter within us.

The warrior we didn't even know we were capable of becoming.

It wasn't always easy.

I think you know that better than anyone.

It's like the old adage says, "If these wall could talk...".

Well, if your walls could, they would talk about my wild and crazy summer. My first summer that was truly my own, because it took me 10 years to finally have my moment.

They would talk about the wine nights with my best friend, the girls nights spent getting ready in my little bathroom, and the evenings I discovered all my new favorite TV shows.

They would talk about all the nights spent studying for tests instead of sleeping, because one of these days I will be a college graduate even if it kills me.

They would talk about how I learned to cook here-like really cook, because I was finally free to be adventerous and try new things, and so I did.

They would talk about the worst night of my life.

And the best.

They would talk about a little girl and her sleepovers with her favorite cousin and about the princess tea parties that were held right there at our coffee table.

They would talk about every nightmare she had in her little bedroom; every bedtime story that was read three, four, and five times; and about every single bath time adventure-like the time she filled the tub up until it overflowed, because, "Mom. Mermaids need deeper water.".

They would talk about how we survived three years without "real" TV and lived to tell about it.

They would talk about the movie nights and the sick days, and the only winter it snowed enough to build a snowman in our little piece of front yard.

But, I think the number one thing they would say is that while it wasn't always perfect, it was truly ours.

Our little apartment.

You were the first place in my whole life that was ever truly mine.

That was ever truly just ours.

Hers and mine.

We were able to be us here.

Just us.

We laughed here. We cried here.We learned how to be brave here.

And you know? I couldn't of done it without you.

I couldn't have become the woman I was meant to become until I learned how to survive on my own.

And I did.

I truly did.

Don't get me wrong.

I am excited about the future.

But, closing a chapter-especially a good one, is always hard.

And so, we cried this week.

Her and I.

We are really going to miss you.

Especially her.

She is having the hardest time.

But, eventually we will get through this and our new house will begin to feel more and more like home.

It's just going to take some time.

You know.

So, thanks for the memories, little apartment.

Every. single. one.

We will cherish them always.

And tonight before we go to sleep, we promise to say a prayer for the next family that will get to call you "home".

May they be blessed and may their journey be bright; and may they feel all the hope and love we've left behind in your walls.

Good bye, old friend.

We're on to bigger and better things.

Because we know that our new chapter is going to be the most amazing one yet.

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