so long number 95

On Friday, I moved my remaining things out and handed in my keys. It’s was strange to walk out for the last time. Of course about ten feet outside the front door, I automatically checked that I had my keys with me and had a wave of panic when they weren’t there. Stop, breath, keep walking. It's the way it is suppose to be.


I’ve had some good memories in that place. A few of my favorites - our annual Christmas parties… The time they gutted our bathroom and I had to go so badly at about 3 am that I snuck up the back stairs, into the apartment above, and crept through the sleepy sounds to their bathroom… Or the time I locked myself out and had the brilliant idea of gathering all the recycling bins in the neighborhood and stacking them up to reach my back porch. I climbed up the precarious stack, only to have them topple over leaving me hanging from my back porch… Or the absent habit I had of picking the flaking paint off the walls while I was on the phone… Oh the good times.

It's all empty now. Most definitely the end of an era but oh so liberating!