Summer hair inspiration c/o Blake Lively.
—Marilyn Monroe. (via evachen212)
I moved out of my first “big girl” apartment on February 28th.
Three years ago, I moved in … years younger, having yet to learn many rough life lessons, glossily numb to what the next 36 months would hold.
I fell in love, out of love, made new friends, lost old friends, fought, entertained house guests, learned to take care of myself, learned to live alone, learned to be alone.
While the outside world spun around me, inside my apartment, I grew and changed as well. The walls, bare when I moved in, quickly absorbed my days and memories, my peals of laughter I shared with friends and long sleepless nights spent worrying about where I was going, what was next.
It’s unnerving how quickly a home turns into a sad empty space.
In the span of just a few hours, the precious rooms that I called mine for so many weeks emptied at the hands of movers I’d just met that morning. With each box that left the apartment, a piece of the space closed off, taping shut that box of my life.
It’s refreshing how quickly a blank room becomes a home.
As quickly as BGA emptied, BGA2 filled up. And with each box, each bag, each wrapper was unearthed from it’s moving container, the new shell turned into my new haven, my new space for memories, my new walls to fill with smiles, late night heart to hearts, and contemplative moments.
Here’s to BGA2, more of those life lessons, and hopefully a lot more love, fun, growing, and excitement.
Remember that the New York you loved five years ago is gone, and the New York you re-learn to love right now will be gone soon too, and part of love means accepting change. This is one of the hardest lessons New York has taught me, but I’m grateful for it. - Mary Phillips Sandy