Over the last five years there hasn’t really been one place that has felt like it’s mine. I’ve lived in several different places, all with good times and not so good times. I’ve shared homes with eight other twenty-somethings, tiny gross dormitories with my best friend Sus, the old Holly House with five other girls from college, my parent’s house after they rearranged from my absence, and that one dorm with the conjoining bathroom that functioned more like a megaphone for my neighbor’s drunken Friday nights. And monday nights. A year ago, it would have been impossible for me to verbalize where I saw myself in five years. I’ve gotten so accustomed to packing up about every eight months and with life shifting just a bit with school, or work, I forgot about wanting to have my own space. When I moved in with my housemate Sam a year ago, I wasn’t expecting the quiet, personal, homey space that we have. This has been the first year of my life that I haven’t shared a bedroom or a bathroom or a closet. I sound like a whiny middleclass pretending to be underprivileged when I say in all seriousness that there is something truly luxurious about having my own space -something I’m experiencing for the first time at twenty-three. I know I’m lucky to have had this year to be alone and grow up a bit more, and to experience a shower without a roommate or sister needing to brush their teeth.
I knew that I would be moving out within a year or so, as part of my little life plan and I tried not to embrace the house as mine but I did. I will be on the move within a few short months and a few days I began decluttering and simplifying all the stuff I do not need. I sat folding clothes on the floor and looked up to peak out my window and I smiled proudly at the late accomplishment of hung curtains. And hanging beside the curtains is a beautiful canvas print created by my new friend Helen and next to the print is a sturdy silver lamp stand that I bought to match the rest of my room. I realized that somewhere down the line, I unexpectedly made a little home this year. I was kind of overwhelmed at the realization and didn’t really know what to do to remember this day -a small, but meaningful discovery. I decided to take out my camera, not for a friend or a client or for my blog, but for me. I can’t remember the last time I picked up my camera without a goal or expectation. So I ‘journaled’ with over two hundred pictures wandering around and rediscovering this place I’m really going to miss. I will be excited for my new dwelling place, wherever it may be, but for now I will revel in this unexpected gift that sits on a little corner of a little neighborhood that has been oddly perfect for me.