the moving memoirs

It's strange how empty a house can seem when you take down your picture frames and a couple of paintings. My roommate CJ moved out yesterday to go to a new job in another part of the state, and it's a little depressing really. It made me realize that I too am having to pack up my stuff and move out of a house that I love.

Ok, so maybe I don't love it as much as my old house, just five blocks up the street, but I am having remorse over the thought that I'm losing my neighborhood. I'm moving 15 minutes outside of town to a new, cookie-cutter garden home duplex which is nice, but not home. Here, the restaurant owner across the street knows me by name and brought CJ soup when she was sick. Here, I can walk my cocker spaniel down the street and run into other dog owners who have known Lilly since she was a puppy. Here, I can walk to the post office and know the postmaster, and his wife, who live a few blocks in the other direction. You just don't get that in a cookie-cutter subdivision or apartment complex.

And I guess I'm a little nostalgic for everything that has happened to me since I moved into this house only a year ago. I've grown up a lot. When I moved out of my 13th Street apartment last year, it was a door closing on my college and grad school years. I said goodbye to those memories- memories entangled with living nextdoor to my now ex-boyfriend, memories of staying up all night watching girly movies with my bestfriend Britt and drunken walks home from the strip. But I said goodbye to all that, and moving into this house was my fresh start.

I became an adult the day I moved into this house. The heating wasn't working, (there was a carbon monoxide leak), both toilets were broken and I didn't have cable for two weeks. I never did get a phone line hooked up, although it was on my to-do list. But I remember rummaging around in the cold house by myself, at first excited, then later crying over my boxes of packed belongings. I never wanted to stay in Tuscaloosa past college, and yet there I was. I had accepted a job that I was sure I was going to hate and was feeling severely left behind. Britt had left, and now Mr. 6 years- the ex, had finally moved out of town. I felt alone and unsure.

But God does have plans. I can't believe how much has happened while I've lived in this house. I first moved in thinking I could live alone, then quickly discovered that having a job isn't that much money after all. Kelly, an intern from CA moved in, then CJ, who was only supposed to stay a month but ended up staying 7. Then, there were the short-timers, my sister, who stayed a couple weeks in August and a photographer from work who stayed in my extra bedroom these past few weeks until her apartment opened up. And there were the pets.. first just Lilly, then CJ's cat Emma, then the adopted cat Oscar, then the extended-stay dog Tessa, and finally the photographer's curious cat Ruben. But now, it's back to just me and Lilly.

Other things have happened too in the past year. I discovered that reporting is a passion of mine and I don't remotely hate my job. I also finally ended things with the pilot and said goodbye to him for good, and I fell in love- twice, the second time to a guy who I want to spend my life with. So, now I'm at another cross roads.

I can't help but feel a little sad as I once again pack up my things and move them into three locations- the room rented outside of town, into a storage facility and to Mr. Goatee's apartment. Am I excited about the future? As always, absolutely. But I guess right now I feel a little immobile. I have to move, because I can't afford this place on my own and I want to move forward on something more permanent with Mr. Goatee. But, I also have to be patient, and let things happen as they come. In the meantime, however, I'll be missing my oak lined sidewalks and a neighborhood where people know my name.