This is the last night in my apt on 39th and Park. I wish I could remember what I felt when I moved in. Here I am almost four years later, realizing its the longest place I've lived since my parent's house in high school. I feel sad. And, of course, excited to move on. But its hard letting go of a home with so many memories.
I've moved into three different positions in my career here... Started a business... Grew a business... Fell in love... Fell out of love... Shared early morning croissants and hours of endless conversations with Allie on many a Friday morning... Had numerous glasses of red wine with Chrissy on many a Wednesday night.... Laughed endless amounts with Erin, any particular night... Shared birthdays with Liam and Mark... Annually hosted Kim, Jackie, Robert, Marina, and my cousin in a space the size of my parent's walk-in closet ... Painted walls black and shades of neutral (actually Erin did that)... All while never learning how to open my closet doors properly...
I know I will make new memories. But there's a part of me that wants to hold onto that space of the known comfort. However, I've learned there comes a time when what is known isn't even comfortable anymore. I'm sure tomorrow night, sleeping in my new space will be exciting and foreign. The next morning I will likely miss the view of Grand Central, or walking out of my apartment to see the Chrysler building. But hopefully, four years from now, I will be able to look back and say to myself it was worth it. It always is.
It seems fitting that its pouring down rain tonight since tomorrow is clean start.
xo
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