I'm moving out of my apartment. My beloved 305 will no longer be my own and this reality comes with some interesting issues.
The inevitable wave of sadness has yet to crash on me but I imagine myself weeping in front of my landlord as I handover my keys.
Removing all of my things has been the hardest thing. Difficult for practical reasons - I have spent pretty much my entire college career in this apartment and have accumulated a lot of things - and for emotional ones - after three years I find it strange to think of what is "mine." I have felt protective of the 305, annoyed when strangers puked on my floor and broke a dining room chair during various parties. I have felt dismayed by its old...well, everything. I have longed for air conditioning and proper heat. I tried to remind myself not to get attached; the 305 is not a permanent home. Despite all that, throughout my cleaning, I have found my roots, dusty under the clothes and clutter of my room.
It's easy to pack the things in my room; I know everything in there is mine. Out in the apartment, things get a little tricky. The bathroom rug, the doormat, various glasses, the coffee pot and toaster oven, things that have become permanent fixtures of everyday use...these things are mine too but I feel weird taking them. There is a sense of shared ownership and I'd almost rather leave them behind for my roommate (my best friend) out of convenience for her.
But with the reality of moving out comes the reality that I will be moving into a new place. I am moving in with my very good friend Niki and her husband JP. They have just bought their first house together and have found it in their hearts to welcome me into their new home. This is a temporary thing and it has always been understood to be temporary. They are being exceptionally generous in every possible way (giving me my own space, basically an entire level of the house-among other things). By having an expiration date, they are ultimately helping me out by forcing me to plan for Portland.
I am extremely excited about it. There will be the new roommate feeling out stage where little annoyances will be discovered, which I'm only slightly anxious for. Mostly I know that, while I may feel like I'm cramping their style, they are totally ok with me being there. After all Niki asked me about it in a manner that suggested moving in with them was the completely obvious choice and saying no would be a stupid decision. Since it is their first home together, I initially felt strange about encroaching on their married space; but I have been invited for dinner and painting several times already (during which I have been in that strange space, hovering in between guest and housemate) and I know that weirdness I feel is just because I haven't actually moved in. Nothing is official quite yet. The room which is to be mine has always been called "Sam's room" and I was consulted on the paint choice, though ultimately it was not my decision (as it shouldn't be). They have gone out of their way to incorporate me into things and have been honest and upfront about everything.
I don't want to say it's strange because that would be a lie. It isn't strange. It's just new and I will not be trapped by my limited vocabulary and stunted emotional reservoir into saying it is "strange" or "weird" or any other word with a negative connotation. The reality of it is this: I am thankful to be at a new beginning surrounded by friends and support to push into the really new scary thing: moving to Portland.
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