i hated our apartment toward the end. i hated how small it was. how it was on the second floor. how we could hear our neighbors. how we had no outside space. but then, when we went to pack up, i recognized how i loved the pictures on the wall. i loved where the chair that i rock you every night was. i loved that we brought you into that apartment.
the day that i brought the last load out in my car (you were with your dad), i sat in the middle of the living room floor cross-legged and cried and cried and cried. i'm not sure why. maybe the thought of everything we've been through while living in that apartment. maybe the fact that i would have to unpack.
i'm not sure.
but.
that apartment was full of love every single day. especially the day we brought you up those blasted stairs for the first time. it was your first home.
1 comment:
I just read all of your letters to Molly and I am sobbing and laughing all at once. So sweet!
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