It all started with a wild goose chase through East Boston to find a rental company that was actually about half a mile from my house in Somerville. (Thank you, Google maps). But thanks to a patient Ann Marie (and Juno), I got this big ass Penske truck and somehow managed to navigate it down the construction-ridden streets of Union Square AND parallel park that sucker right in front of my house. Like this:
Wait a second–I’m getting ahead of myself. It really all started with my cat and me throwing packing paper all over the house and disassembling the cozy life we’d built over the past five and half years. She was a surprisingly good little helper….
I knew my friends were giving up their Saturday to help me load the truck, and that they had to go straight from my house to work that night. So I made it my mission to be completely ready by the time they got there. I had everything packed and stacked, just waiting to get lovingly placed in that giant truck.
The night before, I had a lovely dinner with some close friends. When I got home, I decided to honor my last night in the place with a goodbye ceremony of sorts. I’ve never done anything like that before but it seemed like the right thing to do. The years I spent in that apartment were some of the best and worst times of my life to date. It was my first place without any roommates, the first place where my cat was happy, the first place that felt like home. I lived there while I was starting my career as a personal trainer and transitioning out of the restaurant industry. I lived there when my goddaughter was born, when my uncle died, when my sister got married. I lived there when I met Matthew and fell in love. It was in that place that I learned to be accountable for my own health and happiness. It was in that place, for all intents and purposes, that I grew up.
So I didn’t feel like I could just leave. Especially since I handed over the keys to a very dear friend who was embarking on her own journey of transition and personal growth. I felt I needed to pass the torch.
I won’t go into all the details of my little ceremony. Partly because it was private and partly because you would all think I was a big hippie freak. Suffice it to say that it involved herbal enhancement and hugging of inanimate objects. I cried and told it to take good care of Betzy.
The next morning, I was ready. Aside from the aforementioned google maps fiasco, everything went off without a hitch. Four girls got my entire life crammed into a 16 foot space in just under an hour. You can’t go wrong with a German and an assembly line. And watching Angie carry my entire (intact) bed frame out of the apartment and down the stairs was priceless.
It’s weird how a 500 square foot apartment actually looks smaller when you take all the stuff out of it.
My sister and brother in law brought over lunch, we all had a beer and a sparkly toast, and that was that. I said goodbye to all my best friends, loaded the cat into her crate and bade 235 Summer Street a final farewell. Only thing left to do now is make it to Asheville….