As a kid, I would scrounge through the couches looking for loose change. I’d marvel at the mysterious odds and inns hidden within an old glass jar. I remember thinking ‘How does my mother not know these things are here? Someday when I have my own place I will know where everything is, and I’ll know all the treasures I have’ I always wanted to know exactly how much money I had saved, and would never have any change just laying around, it would all be kept in it’s own jar. Well. Years later. I’m in the process of moving out of my first apartment, and I’m moving home no less. But with that said, it was my decision, and I’ll stand by it. As I go from room to room, throwing things into boxes, I’m stumbling across things I had forgotten that I had. An old buffalo nickle, I was once given in change. Stuffed animals given as a temporary sign of potential love. More white plastic hangers than I ever could have realized I had. It’s funny about the hangers, I also moan and groan that I never have enough clothing, until all my clothes are packed in boxes with the hangers sitting empty and I wonder if it REALLY takes all of my clothes to use them (it does). I’ve lived in my first apartment for 2.5 years. I really have enjoyed living here. And as I was scrubbing out the melted goo in my freezer from a leaking liquor bottle, I realized what this place had become. A home. The little messes I never noticed just seem to add to the character of a place that took me in, and let me live in it’s space.