I am shifting...

It feels like every shred of who I have been these last four years is being stripped away, piece by piece by piece. Next week I am selling my car. I bought this car when I first began college. I bought it with scholarship money so I could to and from school. Today, I moved out of my apartment, the one place in the world that ever felt mine. It wasn’t my family’s home, it wasn’t a friend’s house that I happened to be living in, it was my home. A huge part of me grew there. A huge part of my roommate N. and my relationship grew there. It really hurt leaving that tiny little place with the last of my belongings this evening. It wasn’t the space, or the walls and carpet, so much as everything that went with it: independence, freedom, cooperation, ownership, and peaceful living. That was by far the most peaceful place I have ever lived. I would come home midday to find my roommate K. asleep on the couch or finding how many different ways you can stand up without bending your knees. Sometimes late at night N., K., and I would stay up late drinking wine or eating ice cream, just talking. We would talk and talk about whatever struck our fancy. Life, theology, philosophy, what it means to love, flirts, broken relationships, prayer, our families; no deep topic was without our scope. And now it is gone. I am off to a place that is not mine, where my independence will be reduced, and where I have to begin all over with relationships and friendships. No one there really knows me. I am an enigma to even those who have known me for a while. That said, sometimes I even confuse myself. Part of me is not excited to start over. Part of me is enthusiastic about the idea of a new adventure, rising like the mist from the warm pavement on a rainy evening. A feeling like the English moors with their dusky fog, not entirely pleasant looking and yet filled with an illusive and seductive mystery.