i went to pick up brian's keys last night for his new apartment - it seems a fitting thing to do the day after labor day. for many, the fall season has conditioned us for change. after years and years of new school starts it seems to come naturally. change, moving forward, getting older. new teachers, new classrooms, new schools, maybe new friends. it doesn't seem so out of place to change jobs, cities, or apartments with the arrival of fall. as you get older, change doesn't necessarily become easier, but i think you realize how precious it can be as it arrives fewer and far between than on it's yearly schedule.
i went in by myself to measure his new space. to turn on faucets and lights and flush toilets and close doors and make sure everything was in working order. i measured his bedroom and his living and the space where we want to put a new table. the first little dream of enjoying dinner together and having friends over impressing itself on the empty, untouched space. no scratches on the wooden floor. no dings on the wall. no memories of arguments or tears or days less than good.
right now there is only the possibility of what it all will be. the pretty new appliances and new furniture arrangements and delicious dinners and long nights filled with laughter and love. for a moment the adult inside of us quiets and we seem to be filled with only optimism. the possibilities that live in our heads that come along with change are never bad, they're always good. any questions we may have or that linger seem so much harder to grasp than the happiness we easily envision. perhaps it's our way of coping with change, or a deep, underlying want we all have to really think that - maybe this time - it will be perfect. as we get older we often become cynical, jaded, disheartened. so i stood in his apartment, after the measuring and opening and shutting of doors, just reveling in all of that change for a moment. in all of that hope. those little dreams. in the possible.
we shall see. indeed, we shall see.