Dear Apt. 259,
This weekend we said our official goodbyes. And while I am so happy to leave you to go onto bigger and better things, I am also sad.
Because you were our first. Our very first place of our own - a place that we cold build together. A place with our own kitchen, utilities and rent to take care of, groceries to unload, couch go snuggle up on, and real feeling of the adult life. Things that felt like gold. Because up to that point, our home - that wasn’t really “our” home- was a small shared room with our one and a half year old at my husband’s family home. And you gave us the opportunity to have a bigger personal space to be together ALONE as a family. The perfect home for us in this season of life. And in this time you, 259, its crazy to think about how much has changed since we first moved here. In this cozy little apartment, we’ve woven our lives and dreams together. We decorated, set up or own rules and guidelines, danced on the floor every day, hosted a couple friend get-togethers, helped each other through career choices, and even had another baby.
You gave me the opportunity to learn how to cook decently, clean properly, raise TWO children alone, and be a good wife and mother to my family. Our year spent living within your walls 259, kick-started our lives as family. Growing from a family of three to four within your sacred space.
Time that was spent cuddling, laughing, freaking-out, potty training, arguing, drinking, and crying. You witnessed too many late-night mommy and daddy movie nights, mommy cry sessions, toddler tantrums, and tiny toes walk and crawl across the floors. And even with the close quarters, neighbors above us, and not-too-good neighborhood that you came with, I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.
Because you brought me closer to my husband and let my children grow, play, and learn. So thank you. Thank you for such an incredible year full of cherished memories that will last a lifetime. Thank you for holding us, for shaping us, for bearing witness to our lives this past year.
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