College sometimes feels like a fairytale. Being independent of my parents, living with my friends, having so many people like me living on all sides, it doesn’t feel real sometimes. Living in my first apartment this year truly has meant so much to me; I literally got 733 tattooed on my arm to honor it. The apartment itself doesn’t seem like much with its miniature-sized bedrooms, lack of windows, moldy bathroom, and a dysfunctional kitchen, but the amount of love I have for this house is almost indescribable. This apartment is my first home away from home. It is the place where my friends became my best friends, my family, and my safe place all in one. It saw really rough days, but it also saw the ones I’ll remember forever.
I learned to cook in the kitchen, turned 20 in the living room, and found the purest form of girlhood in the bathroom. I had nightly sleepovers with my best friend in our shared bedroom, laughed harder than I thought I could in our roommate’s room, and sat by our front door having forgotten my keys more times than I’d like to admit. I decorated my own Christmas tree for the first time here. In this apartment we celebrated birthdays, mourned breakups, and had the most drama packed debriefs.
While I’m eager to have my own room and live in a house with more than one living space, more than two windows, and a kitchen that isn’t also the living room, dining room, and entrance hallway all in one, it is hard to feel like moving out won’t be the end of an era. Next year I will still have the same roommates and will only be living two blocks down the street, but somehow, I know I’ll miss this place.
We always joke about making this place a home, but it is funny how much it has become one. I miss it when we’re away, I love the forced proximity to my roommates, and I love how every inch of wall space is covered with memories. So many people have come and gone from this apartment, some that we haven’t spoken to in some time, and others that we see everyday. It is hard to imagine a day where we won’t talk about 733. 733 has become another sanctuary of mine and I dread the day when I have to take the disco ball down from the ceiling fan or the birthday banner off the wall or find a new spot for my apron. I never thought I would dread not living in the 400 square foot apartment that I used to dread living in, but it is hard not to imagine calling this place home.