apartment.

i am moving next semester to the most beautiful dorm room you have ever seen, i can assure you.
also the biggest one you've ever seen. and well, once we get settled, it'll be the cutest one you've ever seen, too.
the building that i am living in now is going to be torn down.
i was the last one to sit on the nasty blue couch and to tiptoe down the probably infested carpet. i was the last one to sleep in this bed. i was the last one to run up the stairs and to get locked out of this door and to stare at the beautiful tree out the window. i was the last one to scream when i opened that mailbox. i was the last one to laugh at the brick featuring a very scary looking cougar. i was the last to do my homework on the balcony while it rained. i was the last to live here.
and i've lived here.
and girls have been living here for sixty years. (really, that's how old this place is.) there have been so many adventures in these halls.
i'm moving into a building and i'll be the first to live in there. i'll be the first to people-watch out the windows and to look at the temple glow in the night before i go to bed. i'll be the first to study her brains out on the new couch that will look so tacky in ten years. i will be the first to do dishes in that dishwasher and hang pictures on the walls and dance in the kitchen. when people wonder about the first girl to sleep in that bed, it will have been me.

and it's so strange but also kind of beautiful that the spaces we live in can be so temporary. they are so personal but they aren't ours. we've shared them with countless others and our lives happen in them. we've slept in the same beds. we've dreamed in them and studied in them and cried in them and laughed in them and watched movies in them and stared at the ceiling in them and wrote in our journals in them. and we shared that all.

homes are special places.
and maybe this isn't all the way home,
but in all actuality it kind of is.
and i feel blessed to feel that way.