For the past several weeks, I have been packing.
My boyfriend and I have this lovely and spacious three bedroom apartment filled with our things.
We have beautiful and expensive furniture, dozens of movies and video games, and plenty of treasured mementos.
Unfortunately, to get from North Carolina to California, we have to be able to fit all of our belongings into an 8'x4'x4' U-Haul trailer. This means we have to sell our expensive and lovely furniture (including a thousand-dollar electric keyboard that we're hoping to get $350 for), pawn off our movies and games, and see our treasured mementos dumped into a Goodwill collection bin.
This breaks my heart. I've lived here long enough to become uniquely attached to everything in this house. I've often thought I had some hoarding tendencies, but never had a problem with it. Looking through all these piles and boxes of things, though, I'm having some trouble deciding what should be kept. It hurts me to part with so much of it.
I get some consolation from the idea that my roommate is buying much of the furniture for his new place, but it still makes me sad to see it go.
I sold our bed two nights ago. It's the bed where he and I have slept in each others arms for two years, where we played video games and laughed together, and where we first made love.
Soon, the table where we ate together will be gone. Where we sat and talked as a family, sharing stories and laughing, where all the meals I cooked were served, and where all the board games were laid out.
The bookshelves that held hundreds of novels, some funny, some sad, some smutty, and some true. The desk where we wrote out our plans and dreams. The couches where we snuggled close to one another and the TV that glowed against our faces.
We are starting over in a new place, a new home. A new life in a new state. A new adventure to share.
This house is empty, and I can hear our memories echoing through its halls, shouting "Goodbye! Goodbye!"