As a former Army Brat goodbye was a word I am well versed in saying. I said it well. And I said it often. And I was okay with that. 10 years later I'm saying goodbye again, and it's a bit more difficult than I thought it would be. As you may recall, our family is moving to a new city this week. A new city. A new home. A new life. So much good has happened these past few months. More good than I could have possibly imagined. And part of that good requires moving to a new place.
Initially, I was ecstatic. After four years of being crammed into a 850 sq ft apartment the prospect of moving on was a cause for celebration. After all, the apartment is way too small. The dishwasher never works. There's not enough cabinet space. The walls are too thin. There's never any parking. My neighbors are a bit questionable.
But then, I started to think and reflect on our time spent here. It wasn't all bad. This tiny 850 sq ft apartment has been filled with so much love. This is the apartment Mr. A and I spent months planning the arrival of our daughter in. This is the first place Little J will remember. The too small apartment with the walls that mommy painted a bit too brightly. She'll remember the times mommy and daddy slow danced in the living room. She'll remember the times we built forts and spend hours snuggling under the comforters. This was the place that kept us safe and happy for the past four years. And for that I am grateful.
Suddenly, saying goodbye is not quite as easy as I once thought it would be.