Moving out
I packed my bags, and gifted the furniture. I throw away most of my kitchen stuff and my grandma and my aunt took must of the food in the kitchen. I stuff all could in a store facility and pack a travel suitcase with some clothes and small backpack with some books. My wallet and phone in my pockets.
I shut down the lights and left the keys with the building’s super. It was done. Another chapter of my life passed.
So many things changed, some many events happened while I lived in that one bedroom apartment up in the Heights; of all the places I have live before, I am going to miss this one the most.
I started 3 relationships and ended 3 more. I finished college and went to Paris and England. I grew tomatoes, flowers and herbs. I got several jobs and quit some more too. I meet new people and forge new relationships.
Most important. It was at that little place in 171st st that I allowed myself to grow up. I finally shed my childish ways and change into a responsible person. I no longer depend on what I can get away with by flirting, but on what I can achive with my work and talent. And for that, my place in Washington Heights will be chiseled in my memories for ever.
