The Old Apartment

Last night I stood in our apartment for the last time. I have been so excited and wrapped up with the purchase of our first home and the process of moving that it didn't hit me until I stood in the empty apartment that it was no longer ours. While I have a computer full of pictures and more memories than I can count filed away in my mind, it was still hard to leave and shut the door on that chapter of my life.


I know much of my sadness in leaving the apartment on Brook Hill Lane is associated with the memories and milestones that I have of my little man. It was here that we brought him home from the hospital after months of preparation and anticipation. I can still see him all nestled in his infant carrier as it sat on the chair in our living room with both Scott's parents and my own looking down upon the beautiful life we had created. I can still see him swinging back and forth in his swing as it sat on the floor and it was in that swing that he first smiled at me.


As I stood in the empty living room Monday night I could see the little man crawling and soon after walking. I remember sitting on the floor and guiding him as he took his first steps and gaining his first sense of independence. If I closed my eyes I could hear his first babbles, words, and the wonderful sound of his laughter. I can remember the anxiety and, I admit, the tears of being a first time mother. The late night phone calls to the pediatrician's office and my prayers that his acid reflux would soon go away and with it the discomfort that it brought him.


My little man spent his first two years in this apartment and it is with all of these wonderful memories that I paused to reflect before I walked out the door one last time.