It all started with an ad in the Monroe Times. Followed by a visit and walk-through with the landlord.

From the moment I walked through her doorway–original wood work, 12 ft. ceilings, white washed walls, original light fixtures, lofty skylights streaming sunlight, beautifully finished wood floors, built-ins, ahhhh–I was in love.

I went back to my parents house, sure that I would soon inhabit that work of art overlooking the historical Green County courthouse.

A month later, I was living in that beautiful space. My 1200 sq. ft. haven.

I filled this space with random knick-knacks, garage sale treasures and St. Vinnie’s finds. Somehow it all just worked. And from that moment on, that apartment held a special energy for me–I found it hard to ever be grumpy or sad, when behind her walls.

For the year and 7 months I lived in my “downtown” penthouse, I loved everything about that apartment–I loved the grand master bedroom, complete with chandelier, spacious closet and skylight. I loved the bright, white bathroom; vaulted ceilings, morning sun streaming through–you guessed it–another skylight. I even loved the tiny outdated kitchen with no dishwasher.

Where she lacked in modern amenities she more than made up in old world charm..

It’s never been difficult for me to give an object away–a finished book, an old pair of shoes, scarf or purse. I find dropping a load off at St. Vinny’s hugely therapeutic. The weight of those objects have been lifted from my shoulders, leaving me feeling lighter and freer.

However, when it comes to places; houses, landmarks, neighborhoods, entire cities–I find myself forming strong emotional attachments. Attachments I reflect on weeks, months, sometimes years later. Often my mind wanders to those spots when I’m distracted or in “one of those moods.” …The rustic red house my grandparents lived in when I was a child; the rocky beach near our family cabin on Washington Island; and I have a feeling, soon my mind will wander to the bright & spacious front room of my downtown Monroe Apartment….

Most often, I know my underlying feelings stem from the people and relationships which I’ve attached to the memories of those places–rather than the actual places. However with this apartment, many of my fondest memories involve spending time alone. Reading by the front window, laying in bed on a snowy Saturday watching hulu on my laptop, or trying a new recipe in my kitchen.

You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. You can’t get there by bus, only by hard work and risk and by not quite knowing what you’re doing. What you’ll discover will be wonderful. What you’ll discover will be yourself. – Alan Alda

But as “they” say– all good things must come to an end… change is the only constant…bla bla and other crap…

I’m afraid that now, at this point in my life, I just can’t chose comfort and luxury over adventure and experience…Quite simply, it’s time for me to move on.

Farewell old home, it’s definitely not you. It’s me.

“He who is outside his door already has the hardest part of his journey behind him.” — Dutch proverb