Over the last hour I've been looking for my next step from here. In ten days my sister moves to Cornell for graduate school (I couldn't be more proud and excited for her) but I've had to decide whether I wanted to renew the lease on the apartment we share. It's a great place to live and has tons of family history--our mom and two of our aunts lived in the same apartment building throughout the 80s when they attended the same university that we've graduated from. I have a lot of great memories in the place. It's been home for nearly two years.
I've decided that I won't be renewing the lease. First, it's just a space that won't be the same when Jordan, George, and Fred no longer share it with me. Second, I'm 25 and I'm too content to live day in and day out there. I'm afraid that I'll wake up at 30 and still be there. It wouldn't be the worst existence to live out, but it wouldn't be filled with the dose of picaresque life that I'm hoping to have in the next five years.
So, in a couple of weeks I'll be packing my small collection of things that I own and moving out. I have no idea where I'll be going from there. Patrick has offered for me to crash his place in Nashville for awhile or maybe I'll look into snagging a short term in my friend's guesthouse while I work on my visa application for Australia. Regardless, I'm happy that I've decided not to try and hang on to the past year and a half by renewing a lease. It's coming to a close as the three creatures that made it so special move on together towards the northern horizon. North to their next great adventure; Ithaca, New York.
It's not easy letting go. Part of me wants to hang on but I know that I would be grasping for ghosts. The spirit of where I live doesn't belong in the building, it belongs in the bodies of my three favorite roommates. They'll be sorely missed.
I think that a lot of people find happiness for awhile in specific places and get attached to being there. There's nothing wrong with that. I think the problems arise when we fail to realize that it is rarely a physical location that makes us fall in love with that certain place. It's almost always the time that we spent with others there that make us become connected to that local. But when they're gone we inevitably feel the need to try and hang on to the place itself. It's difficult to let go of the hallowed halls of times well spent. We become addicted to the nostalgia it evokes and it begins to trap us there. We can't find freedom in fresh new places because we're so caught up living in the old ones.
I don't want to get trapped in an empty apartment filled up with memories if I could be out making new ones elsewhere. I'll carry the memories with me to the far flung places I travel and revel in them in my mind, not sitting alone in the cobwebbed corners of an old building.