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End of An Era
Sep. 21st, 2007 08:28 pmGoodbye, house.
You've been part of my life since 1995. I've lived here for a handful of years, but even before I moved in I spent enough time here that it's felt like a second home. And now I'm finally leaving. Today just feels like a list of lasts - my last time cooking in the kitchen, my last night sleeping under this roof, last time standing on the porch....
Goodbye, living room. I remember sitting on the old, saggy sofa here, with my best friend Arnis, watching X-Files and wishing that I could find a guy to date that was half as good as him. This is the room where I first watched Babylon 5. I planned my wedding in this room. I learned how to knit in this room. I played so many tabletop RPG's in this room that I think I spent more time here as other people than I have as myself.
Goodbye kitchen, with the pancake recipe taped to the cabinet and the stove whose quirks I know. Goodbye sink with the busted faucet and the pot-and-pan hooks that we built into the wall because there wasn't enough storage space.
Goodbye, Arnis's bedroom. I remember the first time I stayed here after we started dating, and he woke me up in the morning with a single flower next to the bed - I think it was a purple iris. We haven't slept in that room since I moved in - we're in the larger bedroom now, but.... we *could* have, if we wanted to. Now we won't be able to, ever again.
Goodbye, hallway. I remember your old streaky green fungus wallpaper, and I remember peeling all that paper off, and repainting in the middle of a summer so hot that the latex paint was melting. Goodbye dining room that noone ever dined in, and corner room with the strange stairs-closet. Goodbye yard that held my garden; goodbye porch where Arnis stood to watch while I walked back to my dorm almost every Friday night my senior year in college.
Goodbye, hideous orange plastic mirror-trenched coffee table. I know you've become the comic symbol of the college-ness of this apartment and our lives to this point, and that I make fun of you mercilessly, but it's still going to feel strange as anything living somewhere without you, and deep in my secret heart of hearts I think I'll miss you just a little.
Goodbye, Arnis-Chuck-and-Eric's house, Arnis-Eric-and-Eric's house, and Arnis-and-Becky's house. Goodbye, home.
I love you. I'll miss you.
You've been part of my life since 1995. I've lived here for a handful of years, but even before I moved in I spent enough time here that it's felt like a second home. And now I'm finally leaving. Today just feels like a list of lasts - my last time cooking in the kitchen, my last night sleeping under this roof, last time standing on the porch....
Goodbye, living room. I remember sitting on the old, saggy sofa here, with my best friend Arnis, watching X-Files and wishing that I could find a guy to date that was half as good as him. This is the room where I first watched Babylon 5. I planned my wedding in this room. I learned how to knit in this room. I played so many tabletop RPG's in this room that I think I spent more time here as other people than I have as myself.
Goodbye kitchen, with the pancake recipe taped to the cabinet and the stove whose quirks I know. Goodbye sink with the busted faucet and the pot-and-pan hooks that we built into the wall because there wasn't enough storage space.
Goodbye, Arnis's bedroom. I remember the first time I stayed here after we started dating, and he woke me up in the morning with a single flower next to the bed - I think it was a purple iris. We haven't slept in that room since I moved in - we're in the larger bedroom now, but.... we *could* have, if we wanted to. Now we won't be able to, ever again.
Goodbye, hallway. I remember your old streaky green fungus wallpaper, and I remember peeling all that paper off, and repainting in the middle of a summer so hot that the latex paint was melting. Goodbye dining room that noone ever dined in, and corner room with the strange stairs-closet. Goodbye yard that held my garden; goodbye porch where Arnis stood to watch while I walked back to my dorm almost every Friday night my senior year in college.
Goodbye, hideous orange plastic mirror-trenched coffee table. I know you've become the comic symbol of the college-ness of this apartment and our lives to this point, and that I make fun of you mercilessly, but it's still going to feel strange as anything living somewhere without you, and deep in my secret heart of hearts I think I'll miss you just a little.
Goodbye, Arnis-Chuck-and-Eric's house, Arnis-Eric-and-Eric's house, and Arnis-and-Becky's house. Goodbye, home.
I love you. I'll miss you.
