Last night I went back to the old apartment to clean.
I went alone.
I could feel this weight of stress and sadness press on me as I prepared to leave the place I had called home from May 2011 to August 2013. That's a long time for me to live in one place. It's about the regular length for me honestly.
I scrubbed and scrubbed. Sweat dripped into my eyes. I sang with the music. I kept myself physically driven to escape the memories of the place.
Seeing the ceiling I woke up to every day--the kitchen where we laughed--imagining my friends in and out of the living room. I really just cleaned and sang to keep all of those thoughts at bay--and left at 10:30pm when I realized that vacuuming just wasn't neighborly.
I came back today and unceremoniously finished vacuuming and wiping down walls with clorox wipes to give a better illusion of clean. I left in a hurry, again without ceremony, thought, or a prayer.
And I felt stressed out and angry.
I walked the garbage over to the dumpster and felt like wretching at the smells coming from the dumpster. I muttered as I dragged the vacuum and the extra dishes I found left in the dishwasher back to my apartment.
I just felt this welling of anger.
The Navajos believe that in order to maintain balance, you must honor ritual and ceremonies that promise to restore balance when something or someone is lost or gained. And balance is everything.
My spirit hurt at the loss of my home. I casually ripped myself away from the place that housed my spirit--my heart--for over two years.
I can be so biting in my impulses and decisions. And my spirit reacted to my casual callous with anger.
So tonight, I will honor my home.
Goodbye sweet apartment 7G. You were good to me. You protected me from the elements and provided me a comfortable place to rest my wear mind and body.
Today I am grateful for my past and for the opportunity to create a home here at 2G.