Things I Will Miss About My Sweet Little Postage Stamp Apartment.

• In a sense, everything. Taking away the familiar to me is a bit like tearing off a bandaid, it smarts even though you know it's coming.
• My neighbors. Steve with his endless coffee drinking and one liners when you least expected them. BJ, fussing and pottering over plants and people with her twinkling smile. Jared, my wonderfully quiet neighbor who seemed to maintain a perpetual cheery mood for two years, and my Weird Neighbor, from whom I never knew what to expect and loved him (from afar) for it.
• The line of smudges on the living room window about a foot up from the windowsill, from kitty noses. It kinda hurt to windex that off.
• The recipe cards I had taped to the inside of the oven hood, so that I could give the impression that I was cooking from memory. (Hee.)
• The view from my window, especially at twilight when the shadows creep up on the hills and the houselights come on and the trees are outlined by the last rays.
• My pretty white marble shower with endless hot water. (My new bathroom will need a little work to rival it, although it does have much better water pressure. If I was a good person, I would replace it with a water saving shower head. Ahhhhh, water waste during a shortage, it feels soooo decadent.)
• The fountain as you walk into the complex. Throwing pennies in the pool isn't quite the same. Or encouraged, for that matter.

But most of all, I will remember it as the first real home I ever had, the first place I felt safe, because it was mine, and I could shut out anything I wanted.