Second to the last night of sleeping in this house. Over six years of memories here, from our third or fourth date when I came over to see where this guy lived. Me moving in a year and a half after that with that great guy. So many nights spent on Old Yellow falling asleep while watching the goldfish scramble away from the turtles. The massive vine that grew out of that tank and crept along all the walls. Doggie doors Fred installed years ago that are a reminder of a beloved Shasta dog who once lived here. The hum of the entryway light, directly above our bed, until we replaced it a year after living together. Painting the walls (before I moved in) warm greens and yellows and pale blues replacing the dull "apartment white". Messy, hilarious deep fried food parties. Our guest room (that originally served as the place for all my old apartment furnishings) hosted so many weekend and overnight guests, including one who accidentally broke our futon during his stay (it wasn't your fault! Its' time had come!)! Wii and Rock Band game nights, birthday and dinner parties, Burning Man planning meetings. Oh, and sex in every room in this house.
And on Saturday, the movers come and take all the boxes of stuff we've been packing over the past few weeks, and we start life with a new view, in our own home 2 1/2 miles away. For some reason I was reminded me of a post I wrote a few weeks after I moved in with Fred. I will miss this view.
It's different for me; Fred has lived here almost 11 years. He built the second downstairs bathroom onto this house that we've rented all these years. He's added real value to the house and seen the changes firsthand, with roommates moving out, his dog passing away, and me moving in. I was the change, while he's been the constant. It feels odd to be so sentimental about this old house, especially since it was never really ours to begin with. It's the end of an era, and a new beginning. Now if I can only get to sleep.