After schleping my prized possessions into a storage unit about two years ago, I reluctantly moved back in with my parents. In my mind this stint at home would last only a few months while I found a way to magically expand my bank account- so I brought just what was necessary to comfortably survive. I even endured a year of my dad’s poster of Paul McCartney hanging above my bed in order to reiterate the fact that yes, I had every intention of high tailing it out of there asap.

Unfortunately for me and my dreams of independence, school work up the yin yang meant that moving into a glorious place of my own was just not an option. So as I took down the poster and pushed aside my parents books, I tried to make my basement abode feel like my own personal space. Flash forward those two long years and I am actually planning a massive move out of state to start out on my own. And I’m sad.

I’m sad that I won’t have a daily reminder of my parent’s constant and unwavering support, a nice home cooked meal every once in awhile, and enough space to do cartwheels in my kitchen. I’m sad that I will probably never have my sweet, loving parents as my roommates again. But most off all I’m heartbroken to leave the one place that has served as my shelter from any kind of storm for the past 10+ years.

Once settled I’m sure that I will be grateful for the chance to walk around in my skivvies and bring whomever I want home at all hours of the night. But until then this move is bringing me an overwhelming fear of change.  And change and I have always had our issues.