I miss my house overall. My new place is great, but it doesn't feel like "mine" and as long as I am renting, it never will. I wish I had just one more morning waking up in my old room and looking out the window down to the neighborhood. One more glass of wine on the deck. One more meal prepared in the kitchen. Part of me feels with everything going on and the last minute change of plans I didn't give it a proper goodbye. That house was the first "home" I truly had since leaving my parents almost 15 years ago. Lots of good memories and I feel as if I left a lot more than a house.
I suppose this is what life is all about. Change, moving on, moving out.
This time it's bittersweet.
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