Conga Lines & Coffee Table Dance Parties
I was in my mid-20's when a tiny, one bedroom apartment became my home in December of 2009. I was living by myself and really enjoying the new found freedom of not having roommates for the first time in my adult life. Now that I'm 36 and finally moving out, it's the end of an era and I'm reflecting on a chapter that helped shape me. It's not all good, but it's not all bad either. Such is life.
Over the years, I've probably rearranged my furniture at least two dozen times in an attempt to make it feel like a new apartment, with new vibes. As it turns out, finding good feng shui IS an achievable thing and I sleep best when my bed is facing north.
I once had a next door neighbor who called me "Scarlett" and had traveled to every country in the world with the exception of North Korea. He played the piano beautifully and on days when I'd go home for lunch I could hear him on the other side of my living room wall. I'd lie on the couch and sometimes drift off for an afternoon nap while he played Mozart from memory.
I've had friends come and go. I've strengthened existing friendships and made new ones over carafes of coffee and homemade breakfasts. There's an Ibanez guitar that sits in the corner and begs for anyone with talent to play it. Otherwise, it's just me and my made up songs when no one is listening.
I've hosted (sometimes to my own surprise!) many impromptu dance parties and it just so happens that a 12- person conga line IS possible inside of a 900 sq. ft. apartment.
Paul Simon's Graceland album has been listened to on vinyl more times than I can count. Dancing around the room to "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" and doing laundry turns an otherwise mundane task into a heart pumping, productive one.
Although tempted, I won't regale you (or bore you) with all my stories, but I do think it's important to reflect on a chapter before you turn the last page. My husband and I (and our two furry babies) will be moving out of this apartment that we've called home for almost 3 years now. We have a lot of packing to do and a lot of things to throw out before our move, but we'll never forget our first home.
Words cannot express how thrilled I am to live in a house, have room to sprawl out and have a piece of land that belongs to me. I'm a tiny dot in the grand scheme of things and my life is a blip on the radar. But while I'm here, the things I can touch and the things that have touched me, I hold near and dear to my heart even when it becomes a distant memory.