For the last 4 years, I've been sleeping on the same side of the bed, in the same room, with the same windows, doors and night sounds.
Tonight, I am going to sleep on the right.
Packing 4 years worth of debris was both dusty and illuminating. I found all the "bad" (career-girl-rescued-from-miserable-existence-by-dashing-artist) books I'd stashed under my yoga mat. I found the ear plugs I thought I'd lost two years ago. I found the love letters from a guy I haven't spoken to in years. I found the source of that smell. There was a lot of sorting. A lot. Some laughter, some tears, some screaming. The hardest part was sorting my books. Every "give-away" feels like losing a friend.
It's true, I haven't moved far; just up a flight of stairs. But it feels like a major transition. I have my own bathroom, a walk-in closet and a balcony. My own balcony! (I can almost see greenery from my window!) I am starting to feel like, maybe, I'm a grown up. Successful even.
So, while my next three months may be a living hell (see previous post), I will have my own grown-up room to come home to.
I will have the memory of this first night of feeling like a success.
Especially with the Top Gun theme song on the stereo.
"No, Iceman. You can be MY wingman..."
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