I stand outside on the porch on my last night, while the hot humid wind blows in my face. The moon is glistening in a distance, faintly lighting up the tree lined street, while a single lamp lights up the apartment inside, while the music faintly plays in the background from my living room.
It is hard to believe that it is the last night at this apartment and it is so very bittersweet.
I step back inside, staring at the one single chair that swirls around, taking in all the empty rooms I am surrounded by and grab my computer to write this last post from this place I used to call home and the place that I felt safe in.
I started my day off at my usual coffee shop, just people watching and trying to embrace every moment I have here. When the thrift store I was donating all my stuff called me to inform me that they were on their way, I just wanted to ask them not to come. Watching them take away item by item made my heart melt a little bit. I understand that it is just ‘stuff’ and it is not too important, but at the end it is my ‘stuff’. I had to control the tears flowing while I watched the apartment get empty.
Even though it is empty and I should be sleeping in the comfort of a bed at my friend’s house, I still cling to this place and my space and wanted to spend the last night here. Why I am finding it so hard to let go is beyond me? I am excited about my forthcoming trips, but yet something here is making it hard to let go and walk away.
Fortunately a couple of friends came over and we went to dinner to celebrate my last night in my apartment. They know the painful memories that I have from living here, but yet despite the pain and hurt, there were so many great memories as well and trying to separate the two is almost impossible.
Sitting here going down memory lane reminds me that it is time to sign up for the Rock n Roll half marathon in September. This was the first half marathon I ever ran and I ran that with my ex and every year I run it as a reminder of what I had with him and I don’t want this year to be any different.
While writing this post, the song “how do you mend a broken heart” comes on, making it hard to control the tears from flowing.
My best friend calls me and we talk for hours about what was and what will be. My emotions are in a turmoil because I got a message from someone that has been in my thoughts a lot recently, reminding me of what we had. This is the time I want to go for a long run and clear my head and let the tears flow freely mixed in with the sweat.
It is too late for that long run, but I can continue to let the music soothe me right now, while I step back outside and try to catch one final glimpse of the moon on the tree lined street. As for the run, there is tomorrow to go pound the sidewalk for one last time.
This song is for the person who wrote to me.