Walking home the other day, it struck me: I won’t be in this neighbourhood much longer.
I start bringing things over to the new place this week, although the official moving day is April 1st.
And I just realized that I won’t be around to see the azaleas and dogwood bloom outside my window…won’t see the sun set behind the big tree across the street…won’t be walking round the pond on Sunday mornings, watching the ducks and surprising the occasional rabbit.
I remind myself that the new place is just down the street from Central Park, for heaven’s sakes, in a leafy neighbourhood, so I will likely have all the flowers and trees and small wildlife I could possibly want.
Still, it won’t be quite the same.
Most of all, I will miss my roomie, her calm presence, her quiet humour….and her magic hotpot. I keep telling people, “It will be nice to live with family again” (my new roomie is my brother) but over the years, my roomie has become family, too.
If home is where the heart is, then I’ll be leaving a piece of my heart here.