Today I locked the door of the apartment I lived in for the last five years for the last time. The experience of letting go of this place was one of mixed feelings: gratitude for the next chapter, fear of letting go, willingness to surrender everything I thought I knew of where I'd be in my life, excitement, fear, oh yeah I said that already. There's definitely fear. And let's be honest sadness. These four walls held space for me (literally) through career disappointments, different significant relationships with men, heartache, some smashed plates, an intense couple of injuries, it welcomed a dog, and it witnessed a young adult woman in the face of addiction. So yes, I am sad and I feel fear because these walls I speak of stood strong for me and provided me with a safe place to grow the fu&^$% up. They supported me when I needed a cave to cry in, laugh in, joke in, bake in – by the way, can we talk about what a tragi-miracle bleach is? Need something to go away forever? Yeah. Use bleach. So yes, there was sadness as I stood in the doorway of this now sterile apartment; yellow walls that once were home to an array of art were now bare, but for the different shaped picture frame dust mark remnants left almost as an homage to their legacy on that wall. The smell of fresh baked cookies and doughnuts was long gone. This space has already ceased to belong to me. And I am suddenly left with the sinking feeling that it was never really mine -- I had only borrowed it. So yes, I feel sadness and fear. But returning that which you have borrowed to its rightful owner also brings great freedom and opportunity. The fear of course comes from the knowledge that I am starting a new chapter, a chapter which has not yet been written, so (insert a million what-ifs) what if I am just beginning the chapter of my life where everything falls a part and I wind up homeless, alone, and without? What if I... (and the list goes on). But that’s just the story my ego tells to try and protect me from pain. But pain is workable, so I’d like to make a commitment to all of you: Today, and one day at a time, I will choose courage. I will choose to change my mind when it accidentally loses course and indulges the ego and the fear mind. I will choose love, excitement, joy, and happiness. I will choose to take all of this very lightly and to open my heart to everyone and everything I come in contact with. Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes. Good mornings and good nights. Yes's and No's. So in honor of this truth and to pay homage to this very special place as I embark on this trip (life trip, South America trip, vegan road trip, all the trips to come) I wrote a poem modeled after my very favorite children's book, Goodnight Moon.
Goodnight 3406 Larissa
Goodnight big ‘ol kitchen, I sure will miss ya...
Goodnight bougainvillea outside my winda
Goodnight Calvin and Hobbes
And goodnight to all the pictures of me and my sister.
Goodnight weird Alice in Wonderland doorknobs
Goodnight ratty ‘ol rug that was given to me by Rob
Goodnight tiny closet that fit only someone my size
And goodnight uncovered shower window that just barely hid my naked thighs.
Goodnight hollow walls
And goodnight painful withdrawals
Goodnight little house
And goodnight dresser, which was home to each blouse
Goodnight precious neighbors
Goodnight barking dogs
Goodnight noisy refrigerator.
Goodnight ornamented walls,
Goodnight secret stairs with your gang of sometimes haters.
Goodnight yellow paint
Goodnight bright morning light
Goodnight, goodnight, it's gonna be alright.