Today I cleaned the apartment. Doors, walls, cupboards. I was there by myself. And it was hard to say goodbye.
I've never really seen the place empty before. Lana and Vickie checked it out when I was in Ontario over Christmas break, back in twenty-ten. And Lana moved our stuff in while Vickie and I were up north on MX2 in January of twenty-eleven.
I think one of the hardest things was the noise. The whole place echoed. I played loud music to drown it out.
No one had taken down Lana's string tree yet. So I had to. It was just hanging out in the spare bedroom, incomplete but loved, like so many of the projects that the three of us took on while we lived there. I guess in a way, it represented us. It was really the only thing that stayed the same, even after Derek and I took over the place and Vickie and Lana moved out.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so excited about my new home. I can't wait to see what it has in store for me and Derek, and any future family members that come along.
But I'm going to miss this place - with late night conversations on the countertops, tears and laughter getting smeared together so closely that the seams disappeared.
There are so many memories packed in to the year and a half that I lived there. So much love, and heartache, and friendship, and growth.
It's hard to say goodbye.