Seven days from today I will be moving, assuming all goes according to plan. My house is packed up (mostly), the books are off the shelves, and I have boxes of stuff ready to go to whatever charity will take it. The lists have been checked off, and I am experiencing the joy of living in a cardboard city.
Every time I go through any kind of major life change, I end up wallowing in nostalgia, and wondering if I have made the right decision. This time, though, as scared as I am of taking this step, and as intimidating as my remaining to-do list may be, I'm not sad to leave. I have been here nearly a decade, and my time in this house has been filled with emotion and change; I've gone through roommates, changed careers, laughed, cried, and learned how to really live. Now it all seems old and tired, and I feel...finished. Let the next chapter begin.