Yesterday, I turned over the keys to the apartment I’ve had for the last year.
Over the course of the last few months I have bonded with the place more than I thought I would. I guess a living space just seems to sink in when you spend time just sitting in and playing video games, figuring out what to pack, having friends over. And then it just seems to hit you in the face like the blast of hot air when you walk outside: it’s over. You’ll never live here again. You’ll never have a reason to drive down this street or make your way along the familiar main road to pass by your university. It may not have been your favorite place, but it was your place. And now it’s not. I was a little sad about that, but also a little glad. It’s proof that things are changing, and the excitement has just started to hit me.
And now I have my car practically packed to the brim and am wondering where my boyfriend is going to put his luggage for our road trip. My three suitcases are completely packed and will likely go through a few more adjustments before I end up leaving for Korea. The idea that I’m not going to be coming back to San Antonio for any meaningful length of time is… interesting. I do not think I’ll miss the area so much as I’ll miss the people who I will be leaving here. And that is what I find difficult. I don’t worry that I’ll never see them again, but I can say with some certainty that the hanging out won’t be happening anytime soon. I suppose this is somewhat similar to the feelings I had when everyone was leaving Wales to return home. So, it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before, but it’s just been a while.
This is when it’s important to take a deep breath and step into the expected unknown. Kind of like Indiana Jones facing the trials of the Holy Grail and stepping onto that nearly invisible bridge.