This is a post which I wrote the day after I moved out of my previous apartment.
Everyone has their routines, like morning chores or commuting to work or buying groceries, routines that people give little or no thought to, activities that just happen in everyday life when most people are busy planning other things. All of it changes when you know that this is probably the last time you are going to do what used to be just a routine in your life.
Yesterday when I walked to my apartment from the train station, I took my time to do it. I enjoyed the sunset more than I use to, forgot to cross the road since I stayed longer at the signal, simply looking around, got immersed in the beauty of the blue sky during twilight (my favorite time of the day) even though I have seen many times, all of this because I didn't want let go of that feeling, the feeling which I get when I am around that neighborhood for a random walk to the nearby shop or a Saturday morning jogging session, when the feelings are always that of hopes and dreams.
I didn't want to let go because, it was time for us to move out from our apartment, the place where I started my life with the love of my life, the place where we not only lived, but enjoyed every bit of it, for the last two years. The place which gave us nothing but happiness, the place which is full of happy memories, laughter and energy, the place which we set up from scratch, where we painted the walls with “loud” colors, the place which automatically gets transformed to a party place every Friday night, the place which we transformed from a mere apartment to our home.
When its time for us to move on, we all think about the time when we started it and it never looks that far into the past, it always feels like yesterday. The apartment was no different. It gave us a lot of memories to cherish for the rest of our lives. Each of those walls or windows had some special memory etched to it. The place never stopped inspiring and motivating us.
By the time we were done with cleaning and packing the last of the stuff, it was late night. Still we just sat there for a while thinking about all those nostalgic moments. Both of us felt heavy at heart. We felt that the apartment has a soul, one which we created out of our own soul, our lives, one which we hope will follow us, no matter wherever we go.
The last of the beer cans we consumed before passing on the keys to the landlord