Sunday, November 18, 2007

I Know We Don't Live Here Anymore...

I shouldn't be crying over this, I told myself. And yet, like the sap that I am, there I was.

Sitting in the corner of our empty Delaware living room, sniffling, the images in my mind caused my tears. Over there was where we had the TV when we first moved in, with the couch directly in front of it. It was before Nigel had even moved in, and our friend Evan was living with us. Surrounded by boxes, we squished together on the uncomfortable old couch and watched movies until they hooked up the cable.

On that wall was where we moved the newer thrift store couch we brought in later. Then Nigel camped out on it for about 2 months while the performance shop screwed up his car while swapping out the engine. If Matt couldn't give him a ride to work (right up the road back then), Nigel would hop on his skateboard and go.

Sitting on the porch after work, reading until sunset. Sitting on the porch at our parties, hanging out with my cigarette-smoking friends. And oh, all our parties. Hugs, snacks, drinks, movie nights, video game nights, chatting with people you only got to see every two months or so, the endless and sometimes maniacal laughter...

We have so many friends in Delaware, and leaving them behind might be harder than I thought.

But then I see the blinds that fell down that management never cared about replacing. I see the dryer that took us 6 months to get, even though I called the office every other week to complain the old one was broken. The thermostat with a mind of its own, leading to the air conditioning that couldn't even keep a tiny apartment under 85 on a hot day. We were told nothing was wrong with it. The toilet that constantly clogged. The dishwasher that was both ancient and inconvenient, with broken racks and a door that would get stuck under the edge of the kitchen counter. Lugging EVERYTHING up and down 3 flights of stairs. All the fretting about the stupid tow trucks. Matt's Moped getting stolen twice, and us never bothering to pick it up from the impound the second time because it was just too fucking expensive to pay to retrieve something that was UNLAWFULLY TAKEN from the parking lot...

I can take the good memories with me.

And happily, I can leave the shit behind.

Plus, once we are finally free of the old place, we can make this new one even more like home.

1 comment:

  1. Aw, Hannah, it's hard to leave a place behind, even though there were many things about it that were frustrating. I feel that way a lot about the duplex my dad bought in Milwaukee that I shared with my brother and sister. I'll never have that time back--I'll never live with them again. they are both married and when I moved out, I was so relieved, but sad, too. Ahhh...memories.

    I am glad you are in a nicer apartment now, even though your last one held so many nice memories.


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