GOODBYE ATL: Packing

If you ever feel like your apartment is small and envy those big beautiful houses from HGTV I suggest you move. You'll quickly realize how good the word "minimalism" sounds and suddenly will start appreciating the value of the non-material things in your life. I feel like our 2 bedroom apartment was reaching the cuteness peak when we decided to move out of the country. And, like a recently made puzzle we decided to just put it back in the box. In the end, a building doesn't make a home, we'll keep the puzzle box and put it together somewhere else! We are excited to move, obviously, and also it's a great opportunity to get rid of all the things that Alex said "really needed" that he would "keep them because I'll use them one day" or "this looks old but it's worth a lot of money". Since it's an out of the country move the filter is thinner and there's more gonners than keepers.

Thankfully some friends asked us if we wanted to housesit (and petsit) while they are on vacation, this way we can start turning our apartment into a messy storage unit and we get to live in a home with silverware and art on the walls...and it's beautiful walk to around without feeling like we are living in the real life version of Tetris. Also the baby pug we get to take care of is the cutest thing ever, and when you feel sad because you are moving away from your friends you should be able to hold a puppy pug (a pugppy) to make you feel better.

Saying goodbye is always the hardest part. You want to have a last coffee, a last drink or dinner with everyone... even with the people you haven't seen in a long time. You need to make sure you have that last conversation, deeper and more transcendent... one more time, with feeling. Knowing there's a deadline makes you appreciate what you have right now. When I left Spain three years ago I remember walking down the streets and trying to soak it all up, breathing in deep so I could memorize all the smells, scanning the buildings up and down to store them in my database. I stood with my feet in the wet sand, the city vibrating at my back and the sea hitting the front of my legs looking at the waves and then closing my eyes trying to record that rhythm in case I needed it. And it's true, sometimes (especially the hard times) I had to pull out all those memories to keep me grounded, to remind me that I belonged, that there was a safe place for me in this big wild world that was waiting for me. Now, three years and a half later my safe ground is way bigger, I am stronger, my senses have sharpened, I am more observant, and I know what do I need to make sure I remember, because now I know what I will miss.