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my hands are cracked and smell like bleach and my feet hurt, but now that i’m off them i’m going to write a goodnight post to wind down after getting everything out of my apartment.

i’m writing from David’s bed, which he’s so graciously offered me while he’s in dc. his room is filled with my stuff after a long day of my(/our) putting it there, and i think i understand how my parents felt the night before christmas…furiously assembling and arranging things to be just so for a few hours. i’m grateful that not a Sophie is stirring because David’s roommate has been an awfully good sport about all this, and i’d hate for him to be woken up. today was hard, but it feels so good to be done with this first leg of the move.

Richard came by tonight as i was starting to lose steam and helped me push through, and if it weren’t for him and David, i definitely would be doing a lot more life-hating and a lot less blog-writing, so thanks, guys, for being so incredible.

After that, I had several hours alone with my old apartment and a slowly-shrinking array of my belongings. Somewhere in there, I started to think that this might be a little more emotional than I’d expected. I’m so bad with goodbyes.

I’ve mentioned here before that during the last real conversation i had with my dad, he told me that growing up was simply a continual process of learning to let go. Something about the way he said this compelled me to write it down on an index card, and ever since, i’ve had mixed feelings about it. Why did I think that was so important at the time? Letting go is hard for everybody. Does it really get easier?

I was thinking about this goodbye in the home stretch and then out of nowhere, it was me, sophie and picasso in their little boarding cage, and one roll of paper towels left in the apartment. I took my keys off the ring and arranged them on the counter. And then, I put the towels under my arm and picked up my birds, switching all the lights off as i walked through the hall. I was already drunk from the exhaustion of the day when i reached the door, and i thought maybe i should look through everything one more time? Take a picture to commemorate this moment? Something.

But i had already walked the apartment several times, and any of these things would be for the sake of formality. i thought about what Dad said and for the first time i recall, letting go did seem easier than it might have in the past. So i took my towels and my birds and let the door click behind me.

And tomorrow there will be something new :)