Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes

Nine years ago my boyfriends sister was moving into a house with her fiancée.

She had mentioned to her landlady that we (her little brother and his girlfriend) were looking for a place and the landlady said we could have it. It saved her the trouble of looking for tenants.

So on August 6, 2001, I moved into a tiny apartment with my boyfriend. It was small, close to both of our jobs, cheap and available. I remember as we were having our first dinner together in our kitchen that was covered in boxes, we made a joke that we would never move out.

" I bet you a nickel we will live here for like, eight years " I said

"No way, try 15 years " he replied.

Both of us could not imagine the idea of living there for any longer than three years. But life has a funny way with those kinds of things. Nine years seemed like a blink of an eye. And we just, never moved.

Within in that first year we grew to love that apartment more and more. It was this cozy little nook that we had made our own. We strung twinkle lights and got Ikea furniture. We would sit and drink wine while we pretended we lived in New York because of how tiny our place was. We would be adventurous and cook new things. Some of them were total failures others were smashing successes. We were happy in our little place.

The first year passed and my boyfriend became my fiancée.

The second year passed and my fiancée became my husband.

Years four, five, six, seven, eight and nine passed with so many life events lived and experienced inside that apartment.

An engagement that turned into a marriage, the birth of six nieces and nephews, the loss of a parent, a grandparent and a pregnancy, the witnessing of 9/11 and the election of our first african american president, the start of two wars, fights of our own, holidays like Christmases and New Years, birthdays, thanksgivings, layoffs, trips, daydreams, joys, accomplishments, failures, hangovers, stupid jokes that made us laugh so hard we thought we would pass out from not being able to breath, conversations that lasted until sunrise and a broken closet door that was never fixed.

All I see when I think of that place is years and years of happiness.

So as I sit here in the apartment, surrounded with boxes again because we are moving into a house, I can't help but feel a little sad that this chapter is ending.

But I am so hopeful and excited for what will be in the next chapter.

A chapter that starts with a washer/dryer hookup non the less.