everything changes.

I hate moving. I've mentioned this before. Maybe it has something to do with all the moving around during the divorce (you attachment theorists would have a field day with that one, huh). I don't know. Maybe it's just because I hate change. But of course, the only constant is change, as we all know. I took 3 Jeep-loads of stuff to my new brownstone, and mostly all I have left is a few boxes, and room stuff, like my bedside table, bed, bookcase, and drawers. Hopefully it shouldn't be too bad. Today my neighbors must have enjoyed the entertainment I provided as the bottom of my box labeled "kitchenware" fell out and dishes, thermoses, and coffee mugs went tumbling down the grass and landed on the concrete parking lot. My favorite Orla Kiely mug that my grandparents bought me broke, and a lid to a pot got nicely dented. Thankfully, my menorah and my Anne Taintor mug survived intact. 

Packing up my stuff makes me sad. Besides the fact that I love this condo, and I still have some bitterness that the PhD program didn't work out and therefore I won't be buying this place and staying in it, going through my stuff reminds me of where I've been. The blue dishes that I have are ones that my dad bought me when I graduated college and moved into my first place of my own, in Ft Lauderdale. He surprised me one night when I came home from work with a bunch of stuff for my apartment. The purple fake lilacs in a mason jar on the shelf in my bathroom have been with me since Florida -- my mom bought them for me when she helped move me in to that apartment, because she said all houses should have flowers. Those lilacs have also been with me everywhere - FL, Manhattan, NJ, NC....they've been a constant. Even the chip clips I still have from when I first moved down to Chapel Hill bring back the memory of me, my mom, and my dad (yes, the three of us) food shopping together, because they both helped move me in down here. Even at the age of 28, I enjoy having these mementos of my parents helping me become independent. And now, I have my new Orla Kiely tumblers and plates and mugs that my mom and my grandparents bought for me during graduation weekend, and numerous pictures of my sweet nephew to put up in my new room. It reminds me of the Melissa Etheridge song form the movie Boys on the Side (one of my very favorite movies EVER), "I'll take you with me..." -- wherever I go, I always have these memories. 

Knowing this might be my last night in this house makes me remember this past year.....moving in after a summer in NY, getting lost driving in Southern Village, having the recycling Nazi lady yell at me, my roommate and I comparing JCrew purchases, pink poker night, lazy Sundays watching America's Next Top Model all day, walking Izzi (the dog)....I had a good year here, overall. I had my ups and downs...sometimes more downs, but I've enjoyed my stay here. Am I jealous of the people moving in? Oh yeah. Wicked jealous. Really. But, life goes on....I guess. 

Latest obsession: Haribo gummy bears. Damn, these are good.