Almost exactly a year ago, I left my perfect apartment in the center of the city, my home that was impeccably-designed and perfectly-suited for me, and moved to The Junction.
The move wasn’t completely spontaneous, but it wasn’t something I had planned to do. I moved out of necessity, because that home, that apartment wasn’t mine anymore; staying there would imprison me in memories that caused me pain and suffering. I couldn’t stay there because the place had already pushed me away.
Almost exactly three years ago, I left my perfect apartment in Washington DC, my home that was impeccably-designed and perfectly-suited for me, and moved to downtown Toronto.
The move wasn’t completely spontaneous, but it wasn’t something I had planned to do. I moved because I wanted to be closer, because the reason I woke up every morning with a smile on my face was hundreds of miles away and I couldn’t bear to stay that far away much longer. I couldn’t stay in my apartment in DC because there was another place pulling me away.
As much as I miss DC and my life back then, I’m so glad I came to Toronto. The past three years have been filled with adventure and so many life lessons. I have made wonderful friends and have finally found work that meshes my talents with my life passions.
As much as I miss my downtown Toronto life, I’m so glad I moved to The Junction. The past year has been filled with bonding with my incredible housemate and renewed health and life that comes from living near a park and in a residential neighborhood. The people in the community recognize me; I am a regular at coffee shops and bars and restaurants and the strangers I see on the street every day treat me like family — they are no longer just strangers.
I’m moving again, soon. I’ve moved locations a lot (dozens of times) in my thirty-one years alive, and I’ve realized that every move can be sorted into two categories: moving to or moving from.
Three years ago, I moved to a place of love and friendship and opportunity. One year ago, I moved from a place of pain and betrayal and hurt.
This time, I’m moving to, again. I’m still not sure where I’m going, but in the next few weeks, I’ll be moving to somewhere where I hope to make a new home with new adventures and new opportunities and new love.
No matter what the reason for our moves, we always take a piece of our past homes with us wherever we go. Everywhere I have moved, to or from, has made me who I am.
I’m moving to, again. I hope never to move from, anymore.