moving in / the pit of summer

 This summer, I was gifted with the opportunity of packing up my cramped two-bedroom apartment, and fleeing to a spacious, six-bedroom, two-story home just across town. The best part? I'm living with my closest friends I've made since moving to Chico, and of course, my hometown best friend. 

The huge window brings in so much natural light!  

The house itself is to die for: bright turquoise exterior with outstretching limbs of lavender plants sprawling across the front yard. It's a historical home -- the property's land deed was gifted from the founders of the town I live in. the archways all have a curvature to them, a strong indicator that the integrity of the home is preserved in its original form. A brick chimney tunnels into a beautiful, working fireplace in the living room, the mantle adorned with nails in it for stocking during the holiday season. The downstairs bathroom is adorable (and pink!), and the kitchen floor is tiled in a checkerboard pattern. 

But truly, the showstopper in my eyes is the upstairs. All of the bedrooms are so adorable, they all have such a cozy vibe to them because they all have a kind of loft ceiling. My bedroom is up here, naturally. I took the one with the most windows, because I know that I'll be able to watch the seasons change from my room. I imagine watching the rain pour down during the fall, and the birds chirping in the spring. Right now though, it's fucking hot, and arguably the worst room to have during the scorching summer. 

Saying goodbye to the old apartment was kind of sentimental. She treated us so well, with care. It was the first place I called home away from my parents. It was the first place I did a lot of things: hosted a party, smoked indoors, helped my best friend get through a breakup. She's seen the ugliest sides of me, but I know she's seen the best too. It's weird to completely abandon a place you've spent so much time in. In a way, it's a breakup within itself. 

It's also a new beginning. I can tell this new home is going to create so many memories. I've only lived in it for a few weeks but it's already full of stories. 

Summer is a weird time for me, always. I feel like I should love it, but really, it's my least favorite part of the year, if it really came down to it. I'm born during the summer (June 28, never forget it), so I always think this should be my most transformative period of the year, but really it always seems like the most intense. I fight with my parents, I feel out of place in situations that should feel comfortable, the list goes on. 

This is a special summer, though because it's the first one where I'm spending a majority of it away from my family, and not in San Diego. It's a breath of fresh air to be away, but I find myself feeling a little nostalgic for the things I used to do. I remember the salty air always blowing in my hair from the ocean, walking on the warm sidewalk while the sun paints the sky a beautiful collage of pinks and oranges, the purple jacaranda flowers falling from my backyard tree. My mom would get so annoyed when they got stuck to our shoes and we tracked them through the house. 

I enjoy the freedom, and the peace. But I also miss the chaos of scrambling for a family trip, remembering a toothbrush on the way out. In those moments I dreamed of the life I live now, so maybe I just want what I can't have. 

Clearly, there is lots to think about. Until next time, cheers!