Well, not really. A lot of my things are still out, and I still don’t know how to jam them all in these moving boxes.

After almost two years of staying under the same roof, we’re parting from some of our (soon-to-be-former) housemates and leaving this place we once called “home”. But it’s all good. Change is good, after all. And it’s not like I won’t be seeing Normi and Jen anymore. I’d still be staying with Aster anyway, and Ivy, a friend from way-back-diaper-days, will be joining us too. Plus we found the perfect apartment also, after a whole month of trying to look for one. It’ll be fun. And I’m excited and nostalgic and uhm, sleepy (right). But it’s all good. :)

So hey, I’m in the middle of a pile of clothes and boxes and shoes and dirty laundry right now, taking a break from all the packing, and trying my best to capture the moment and how it feels.

(Note worthy: This post is not brought to you by Tortillos or Merell.)

Now is the time to feel stressed, and to think of a nice long bath, but there’s still a lot to do. However, on top of the adrenalin rush, I can sense this teeny weeny bit of nostalgia in the air — which I think is inevitable, especially if you’re leaving a place you’ve spent some of the best months of your life in, and you’d most likely never set foot in that place again.

I mean, how can I forget all those nights I entered that door to find sanctuary in the four corners of this room after a long day at work?

Or that bulletin board that once was a collage of bills, and photos, and notes, and star-shaped pushpins?

And how can I forget that view from my favorite spot in the veranda — the same view where I last saw my Dad’s smile, (and the same place where I last felt your arms around me)?

Hay. Priceless moments in this place. I shall always remember.

I would have taken more pictures, but my mess awaits. This nagging voice inside my head keeps on reminding me that I’m no longer a little girl, and there’s no more yaya to pack my things and do the tasks that are supposed to be mine. Gah. It’s tiring to be an adult.

Tomorrow, we’ll be leaving this apartment, and will start filling a new one with new memories.

And it’s really not that big of a deal for me to be blogging about it.

Except that it once again made me think about how time flies so fast, and that life involves a lot of moving on.