I found out the day before St. Patrick's Day (2012) that the house I have been renting the past eight months sold. The landlord sold the property after having it on the market for only a few days this spring. I knew this day was a distinct possibly but I had committed the thought to the bowels of my cerebral cortex. The house had become part of my character. I had even adopted a cheesy name for the basement bar, "Martini Mike's".
Over the past eight month, I have hosted memorable parties, brought in my cousin as a roommate and given the place an identity that parallels my current emotional state. I promised myself after moving out of my last apartment in Charlotte I would specifically tailor the next place I moved to abide to my weird yet playful taste. I regrettably delegated this decorating authority to the ex I was living with at
in Charlotte. (Reminder for future blog) After being completely disgusted by my behavior and spending a few months in limbo, I decided take control of my situation. This place was the epitome of every intention I whole-heartedly accomplished.
I choose to believe my eclectic decor sold the place. It was decorated with classic prints, framed vinyl records and symbolism of my family heritage. Although I didn't own the place it felt as if it was
mine. Every weekend there were new and familiar faces sitting at the basement bar. I created the ultimate house playlist. My neighbor and I shared many nights and martinis and developing a mutual admiration for each other. Well, at least I developed one for her! I reminisced with my college roommate when he came to visit and briefly regressed to being 19 years old. My entire family spent New Year's Day together here. I cannot be certain this will happen again. My cousin brought a high volume of people to the place and a relished in the opportunity to get to know them as people. There were character and personalities.
One may think I would be overwhelmed by an ominous feeling of sadness and hopelessness. My past history of pessimism might overbear my stability. However, I quickly discovered I was quite joyful. It felt as if I was being unshackled and the prison gates opened and sunlight beaconed my existence. I was overtaking by the thought of the endless opportunities that lie ahead. What next? Will I move abroad, back south or to a larger city? Will I spend more months living with relatives pondering my next move? How about I will not go any further with this thought and just enjoy the last few moments I have in one of the best places I have ever lived? This year, I am living for the moment, not the future.