Letting Go

I turned in my keys to the apartment today. It was two days early, but the apartment was all cleaned out and ready to go, and I was down in the neighborhood.





This process has been harder than I've admitted to most people. For the last couple of days, I was going back and forth between feeling a little weird about the transition, and then feeling like the weirdness was me being crazy. The best explanation is that I kept feeling as if the apartment was one of my last remaining connections to my mother -- she picked it out, she came to visit there, she stayed there to take care of me when I had my wisdom teeth out -- and how by moving on to some place that she has never seen and never will see, I am losing yet another connection. It's hard even to explain to people who haven't been through something similar, and it's not a feeling that I would wish on anyone.

But, ultimately, it all comes down to the fact that I have to keep moving -- keep moving on, keep moving forward. And the only way to do that, I suppose, is by letting go of some things. The apartment is just one.