Moving is Bittersweet ... and Painful

I am officially moved out of my apartment, and this is my first morning living at my parents' house again. I've woken up this morning with aches and pains all over my body, and I can barely walk. I've got to try to unpack and arrange all my crap, but this house is in such a major state of chaos, I don't know where to begin. So I decided to blog about yesterday. :D

The move yesterday was an all day affair. We got up to the apartment around 9:00 or 9:30, and Jessica and I didn't leave the apartment until after 10:00 last night. My parents were particularly awesome yesterday, carrying boxes and furniture up and down stairs at their advanced age ;) No, actually it was really hard for them, but they kept going, and really helped out. Some neighbors of ours also helped--they brought a truck and took down a bunch of my furniture, and helped load a bunch of other odds and ends. I really appreciated them.

Then Jessica and I were left to clean the apartment. We had to make a stop at Wal-Mart to pick up a few things--light bulbs, drip pans for the stove, etc.--so we also picked up a little something to eat, went back to the apt., and had a little picnic. It was our last meal together in our apartment, and we started talking about all the memories we'd made in this place, and all that had happened over the last year. We snapped a few silly shots of each other with our cell phones, then got back to work. And work we did! That apartment has never been so spotless--even when we first moved in. I had better get my security deposit back, that's all I can say!

Finally it was time to load all our cleaning supplies in the car, turn out all the lights, and leave. I stood there for a minute by myself in the dark before I walked out. As much as I have hated this apartment, I've loved the memories that Jessica and I created there. There were hours of talking and laughing, cooking dinner, and watching countless movies. And even the not-so-pleasant events are morphed by the magic of memory into silly things only to be laughed at. That's what I love about my sister and our relationship: that even when we're mad at each other, we're not really mad at each other; and even when we think the other is asking too much of us, we don't really think that. Because the truth is, I'd do anything for Jessica, and I know she'd do the same for me.

I walked out of the apartment last night, and Jess stood next to me as I put the key into the lock and locked the door for the last time. She went downstairs, and I looked at the door to apartment #19 one last time. Behind the the door was a dark, empty apartment, but in my head I imagined that the apartment was the same as we'd always left it before. I think that's the way I'd rather remember it.