To Love as we are Loved

Today I moved out of my apartment. I've only been living in the one-bedroom third-floor walk-up for about a year, but it was home. Yet, even as far as homes go, it has not been my favorite. I never really embodied the space. I continually grumbled about some of its eccentricities--not enough sun, too chilly, small kitchen, lack of a breeze, and on and on and on.

As I was cleaning up the place for the last time, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the place that has held me this past year. It kept me dry, mostly warm, well-fed, and comfortable. The apartment never failed to embrace me after a difficult day, a lonely evening, or even a joyous occurrence. In a sense, it showed me unconditional love, even as I griped about its many failings.

In the process of scrubbing the stove and the rest of the kitchen, I began to clean out of a sense of honor for the place. Even the places where no one ever looks (under the bottom edge of the oven door, for example) I cleaned until white. As I cleaned, I could feel my orientation to the apartment drastically change.

It finally became mine.