Moving

So we haven't updated for a while. I guess that's what happens when finals hit. But I'm done now, so the blog will become a little more regular. Hopefully...

I'm in the process of packing my room and the process is feeling very bittersweet. On the one hand, I am very excited to be moving home for the summer. I start my job (that I LOVE!) on Monday. My new niece (who is adorable, might I just say) will be living a mere 5 minutes away. My mom will be cooking yummy food for me. I don't have to pay rent. The place that I am living will actually be clean and there will be no mildew growing in my washroom. I will get to spend time relaxing, watching movies, going to the lake, hanging with my bestie, reading books that I actually want to read.

But once I leave my dorm on Wednesday, I won't be coming back. I'm moving on to a house. My grandparents basement, really. But a house nonetheless. Don't get me wrong, I am looking forward to being more independent, and cooking for myself and actually having space that is mine, bigger than my 12x12 dorm room. What I'm not looking forward to is not having my closest friends in the room next to me. Not having a building full of 50 people, one of whom is sure to want to come to the movies with me. Not being able to having singing parties after supper. Not having at least one other person who is in your class to help you study. Not having someone to give me a hug and listen to me complain after I've had a hard day. Although I'm kind of introverted, I've gotten used to the people and the noise and the random escapades. It's comfortable and I will definitely miss it. Add in the fact that I will be 2 hours away from my boyfriend all summer, and you can see why I am feeling down.

Growing up is a funny thing. I've loved my 2 years living in a dorm. It totally helped me make friends, close friends. These people have totally become my family. I share everything with them and I am sad to be leaving them behind. But I know that I can't stay here forever. It would be nice to just stay in the same place forever. I like it. But growing up means accepting the changes and moving forward, maturing and learning new lessons. I'm trying to be positive about the change but it's hard not to cry as I put clothes in boxes. It's hard to stop feeling like I want to hide under the covers and stay there until it gets better, like when I was 5. But I will do my best. It doesn't mean that I won't cry when I leave. It doesn't mean that I won't cry when I close the door to my room for the last time. It doesn't mean that I won't be lonely next fall. But it does mean that I will look back on these 2 years in Ogle with a smile. I will look at all of the pictures and laugh. It means that these 2 years have shaped me and molded me into the person that I am as I walk out those doors for the last time. And it definitely means that I will come back and visit next year and shake my head at the naivety of the first years. So growing up and moving on isn't all bad. It's just different.

~Jessica