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We were suppose to move out of this apartment and into the new house mid-May.  Well, here it is late June and we are still in the apartment looking at an early August move.  After nine years of being in this place I’m out of patience and I don’t feel like I can tolerate one more minute, let alone a few more weeks. 

My landlord called the other day and asked if he could start showing my apartment.  I have the biggest apartment in town and word is spreading like wildfire for people who want this place.  For some reason this all gave me new perspective.  For the first time I realized someone else was going to be in my home.  As much as I can’t stand this place any longer, there has been so much life inside these walls, so many memories.  Do the people moving in realize how much life happened here?

It has felt odd to know strangers are moving around my place during the day.  Do they know that I kissed my husband for the first time on the living room floor, he told me he loved me for the first time in the middle of the dining room, the Christmas tree has sat in the corner every year and Rebecca rode her pink bike up and down the hallway when she turned 8.  I’ve locked the front door several times as I’ve headed out on vacations that have changed my life and I’ve heard it slam several times in heated arguments with my ex-husband.  I danced with my ex-husband countless times in the kitchen and I’ve laid on the kitchen floor more times than I can count while I have cried.  I’ve had sex with my husband on the kitchen counter and ignored dinner cooking in the stove.  I’ve walked the hallway consoling babies and seen countless forts built in every room. I can tell you where wine has been spilt from parties and dents made in the walls from pushing furniture back for even better parties. 

These walls are full of our laughter, tears, good times, bad times, and memories of growing up and moving on.  As much as I’m ready to move out it is starting to hit me that I will no longer see what time has left behind in the markings on the wall but I will only have the memories as someone else moves in to make their own marks.  I hope this place doesn’t just leave the next tenants with spider bites and a desire for a bigger kitchen but some moments in time that are worth more than the high utility bills.