Almost six years ago and three flights of stairs up, we thought our new apartment in this little beach down was part of Heaven.
For 8 months I helped you walk up and down these stairs until up was to hard for the both of us.
Four years after you, I stayed in our apartment. I couldn’t move, at first, because of finances. I couldn’t move, because of safety. I couldn’t move away from us. I just couldn’t.
For a time I thought I would never leave. For a time I thought if I didn’t leave you might come walking in that door again. For a time I thought that I wouldn’t have any other reason to leave and, if I did, it was selfish.
Slowly but suddenly I found myself in similar yet unfamiliar spaces and I new it was time, time for me to move forward, time for me to move my mindset and time to move on from our apartment three flights up.
It has taken me some time to realize that moving doesn’t change how important our memories are to me. Moving doesn’t mean I’m forgetting about you. Moving doesn’t mean that I don’t still love you. Moving means that I still have life to live and our apartment wasn’t supposed to hold me anymore.
So here’s to our wonderful years in that apartment in the sky.
Almost six years later and this is our last walk together down these three flights…