Nostalgia

It's my last night in my apartment. It's completely empty except for my suitcase of clothes that I'll be living out of for the next 10 days, a heating pad that I'm currently laying on and my laptop.

[Taken today as we waited for the movers to take the last bit of stuff.]

No matter how exciting the next step is, an empty apartment has a way of making you feel a bit nostalgic, doesn't it? I mean, on March 15th, I'll be moving into a bigger, better apartment, which Mark and I will soon call "ours." It'll be our first place together. It has a rooftop. It has multiple bedrooms. It's in a sweet location (near Vatos Tacos for those of you in Seoul). And it'll be "ours."

Yet here I am, getting a little misty-eyed with knots in my throat and butterflies in my stomach. But why not? I mean, this apartment has been the home of many memories with best friends, new friends, family and the love of my life. It was here that I felt safe and at home during my first year and a half in Seoul, which is, actually, quite far from home.

This home saw blood, sweat and tears (lots of tears). But it also saw so much more happiness, laughter and joy. It experienced change and tough lessons. It welcomed a new family member and said goodbye to that family member all in the same year. It endured countless angry pounds from my next-door neighbor, who wasn't happy with my cutting vegetables at 9 p.m. It became a baking haven for Jamie and I, as well as a slumber party fort, where we'd giggle 'til the wee hours of the morning.

This was my first real apartment that was really mine...with me, my growth and my experiences written all over it. So, of course, it's hard to say "goodbye."

But you know what? I'm so willing to get rid of my apartment, so that we could have our apartment. It's a pretty good trade-off if you ask me ;-)

Cheers to bigger & better things!