It’s that time of year, for me and for many, when the project dates start rolling in, stress feels heavier than ever, and a list of never-ending chores seems to pile onto my to-do list every day. As a senior in my last semester, you would think I’d have this end-of-the-semester thing down, yet every time I get to the final few weeks, my life feels nothing short of messy and hectic.
Yet somewhere in the midst of my typical stress, I can’t help but feel a little bit of grief in my final year. There are a few reasons for this, like many seniors, I’m trying to fathom the fact that I’ll be graduating in less than three weeks. In other ways, I can’t help but feel like my life is being flipped upside down, given the last four years I’ve spent here building relationships, finding myself, etc. However, recently, the grief I feel has been largely tied to my apartment. Strange right? Like, I’ve only lived in my cutie little town apartment for one year, but apparently my fondness for it has grown significantly.
As much as I would have loved to have resigned that lease and stay forever, I can’t, so instead, here’s me showing some love to the apartment that grew to know me best.Â
When I first toured my now apartment, I was immediately drawn to its undeniable character. Unlike my last apartment, whose best features consisted of extra square footage and a questionable sunroom, this apartment was objectively adorable. Although yes, much smaller than the last, it has these beautiful rustic brick walls that landscaped the left side of the apartment when you walked in. The type of brick, as my mother stated, “you would see in an old school New York apartment.” In addition to the brick, there were these stellar dark wood beams that ran along the stark white ceiling beautifully. Although the ceiling was quite slanted (and never took kindly to anyone over 5’9), it was stunning.Â
The actual apartment layout was nothing special. With one area room containing the kitchen, living room, and laundry room, we definitely had to be creative spatially. There were two bedrooms; one featuring the gorgeous brick wall, the other more modern with the same wood flooring in our main area. And our bathroom–how could I forget–with black and white checked tiles and a doorknob that never locked.
Aesthetic value aside, over the last year, this apartment has been such a prevalent part of my senior year, as I’d like to think it was more than just a place where I slept, ate, and did laundry. This apartment watched me grow during my last year at West Chester University, and was there for the good, bad, and everything in between.Â
From me running back and forth between classes, leaving for work, grocery shopping, and juggling day-to-day life, this apartment witnessed it all. When I was anxious about everyday life, this apartment was here to offer me a bit of shelter away from the real world. Every single time, I locked in to write a paper, study for an exam, or practice a speech, this apartment silently accompanied me in my stressful endeavors.
Then I start to think about how many decorations have been hung up and torn down along the walls for each holiday and birthday, or how many pictures have been taken against our adored brick wall…
How many times my roommates and I crammed into our little bathroom to get ready…
How many times this apartment welcomed guests in…Â
Now, as I try to write this goodbye, I stare at the walls that hold photos, hanging plants, and some old Valentine’s garland, and I can’t help but feel incredibly thankful for finding a place that housed me, and also silently supported me. Given the year of memoirs and changes, I’d like to think this apartment got to see my life through a lens very few see, and in many ways, it grew to know me best.Â
So thank you, apartment, for every day I lived under your roof was something special.Â