I’m currently sitting in my echoing soon-to-be former living room, with two thirds of my books all packed up and most of the furniture sent to pasture. I’ve lived in this apartment full time for ten years, which is almost a third of my life. As much as I really want to get out of here and embrace the change that’s coming into my life, seeing the place this empty also brings the possibilities into the light. It could’ve been so nice if I ever got the chance to paint the walls, buy different furniture, get rid of all the clutter that’s now slowly making its way to the recycling centre and the storage unit.
It’s bitter-sweet, I guess. I’m packing my bags and moving away and that makes this the sixth place I can never return to. A lot has happened here. I’ve gotten all my comic gigs within these walls, I’ve fallen in love and broken up and come to so many realisations about myself in this apartment and although nothing of that will disappear, it’s going to be really strange to not ever be in the place where it happened. Not long ago I thought I’d be here for years, until I eventually moved in with my boyfriend (where I’m moving now) or found another place closer to the city.
Surprise can be good. Change can be good. 2016 was, for many, a year of death. In tarot the death card symbolises change, not endings and I’d like to think that’s what 2016 was for me; a year of planting change.