While three years might not sound like a long time to some people, it's the longest that I've spent in one place since I moved to Chicago. Up until then, I'd moved, on average, once every nine months for five years. It's hard to feel like you have any stability when you're hopping from one place to another like that. It really wasn't until I'd been living in my current place, soon to be my old place, that I started to feel like Chicago was actually home.
There are good memories and bad ones associated with it, like there would be with any place you call home for a few years. In the time that I lived there, my father and stepmother both passed away, as did my dog. I lost my job a couple of years ago and was panic stricken about it, and cleaned compulsively to try to distract myself from how scared I was that I wasn't going to make it.
It's also where I was when I found out that I got my current job. I had my first kiss with the love of my life sitting on my porch. I've cooked countless meals in the kitchen, napped on the couch in the living room and been woken by the bells ringing the hours in the church across the street. I can't say that the past few years have been the happiest of my life, but they've definitely been some of the most formative.
And you know what's weird? I'm going to really miss the fence in the back yard. It's such a great place to take outfit photos.