good-bye 22

I am saying good bye to 22 tonight. It was a good age, a good year, a formative year. My world and my identity changed on so many levels. But even though it was a great year, I'm ready to say good bye to 22. Will I feel older and more mature tomororw, more like the adult I pretend to be every day at work? Probably not. But now I won't feel quite so embarrassed when someone inevitably asks how old I am. I will proudly say 23, which is still young, because I'm not pretending to have it all figured out, but it sounds a heck of a lot older than 22, which as one of my fellow 22 year old friends described as an age that just screams fresh out of college.

It's kind of a big week for good byes. Adam and I are moving out of our first apartment together and taking the plunge into homeownership. As of Friday we will be the proud owners of a 2 bedroom condo in Des Moines. I have had more addresses than I can count in the last 4 years, none of them lasting more than 7 months. So it doesn't feel that abnormal to be packing things up again. But this time I won't be packing again in a few short months. What will that be like? I really don't know. There won't be a compelling reason to get rid of clothes I haven't worn in a year and I won't be emptying drawers, throwing away that eyeshadow I never used, the shoes I don't wear any more or the random crap I am so good at aquring at the Target One Spot.

My family also moved out of my childhood home this year, which meant there was another closet for me to empty, another set of dust bunnies to disrupt from under my bed and a collection of memories to relive. I cleaned out that room in November and filled a box with things I couldn't bear to part with but that my mom refused to let into the new house. And you know what? That box is still sitting in the trunk of my car. I haven't looked at, but I still can't throw it away. The picture frames with smiling faces from high school. The college mascot memorabilia, the yearbooks. Maybe I'll finally move the box into the new condo, where it can collct dust until we move again.

So I said good bye to my college apartment and my childhood home of 20 years without shedding a tear. So why is it that I feel most sentimental about this little apartment where Adam and I have only lived for 7 months? There are plenty of things to complain about, from the dryers never completely drying our clothes to the dishwasher not really cleaning anything. To the lack of a light over the dining room table, to the cold showers. But there are as many little idiosyncracies that I love about it. I love that we are on the 8th floor and have a balcony that overlooks the city. I love it that it feels like we live in a big city because we live in such a big building. I love the old retired people you encounter on the elevator who ignore the unspoken rule that people don't talk to eachother on the elevator and always ask how your day was or comment on the weather. I love it that it's so small that Adam and I can clean the whole thing in an hour. I love our huge walk-in closet that I managed to dominate even though Adam had a 5 month head start on me. I love it that it is and always will be our first home together. That we made our first real adult furniture purchase with this space in mind. I LOVE the neighborhood that it's in. Just south of Grand, which if you're familiar with Des Moines is the highly desireable country club-esque neighborhood. This is the place we had our first little dinner parties, put up our first christmas tree, argued as we hung the first pictures and burned our first dinners. I love the swimming pool, that I was able to take full advantage of when I wasn't working full time.

good bye 22. good bye #806.