apartment.

She walks around the apartment in high heels and gym clothes, perhaps not the most practical way to beging the daunting taste of packing, but who's to say what is and isn't acceptable. Captivated only by the thoughts in her head and the noise of the construction crew outside. she struggles to get her mind focused on the task before her. The idea of transporting all her belongings out of her beloved apartment is overwhelming. And unthinkable. Here is sacred ground- the walls hang with smiling faces of past memories, the couch sags with the weight of people's ghosts, and the floor creaks with the pressure of holding the place where many memories were made. With every frame removed, dish pack away and clothing folded, she feels her adult-ness being packed away with the items.
Here is the kitchen where she burned milk and cookies, perfected pumpkin cheesecake brownies and chicken enchiladas, and fostered her love of hospitality.
Here is the living room where she decorated the mantal for every season, sprawled on the couch after a long day, and ate dinner with friends.
Here is the bedroom where cousins, friends, and sisters have stayed and where the art of storage under a bed was perfected.

Next year, someone else will inhabit the apartment she has grown so fondly of. The apartment where she can rock high heels and gym clothes. The apartment where nerf gun wars happen. The apartment she can call home. The apartment in which she became an adult.