A year ago—exactly—I delivered to you readers quite a sad post. I told you about the home I was leaving and how very much I was dreading to do so. And surely that was such a landmark moment in your life that you took note of that post and have thought about it every day since, right?
No, you haven't, but I'll update you on what's happened in that year, anyway.
Do I like 516? Nope, not really. It is by far an inferior apartment, and I don't say that just because I'm stubborn. This apartment just isn't as good as 703 was. I've made some pretty good memories in this apartment, though, so I don't hold quite as much resentment in my heart for it as I did when we first moved in. Summer Odessa was quite peeved to live here, but current Odessa's a little more relaxed. Only a little.
I've continued attending school. I've had roommates come and go, I've had friends get married, I've watched The Shawshank Redemption several times (but not enough). Life has continued on. The world didn't freeze when I left 703, for which I'm thankful...I think.
It's been 365 days since I sat in the armchair in 703, feeling a cold emptiness in my stomach and a hole in my heart as I looked around the apartment I loved so much and knew I only had two more days to enjoy it. And now I'm here on the couch in 516, lying down on the couch and looking around at this apartment with notably more detachment. I have come to like—maybe even love—this apartment, but not that much.
The home I'm leaving is BYU-Idaho itself.
Yep. I've made it. I'm graduating.
A couple weeks ago, I read back on the blog posts I did during the first few days that I was ever here in Rexburg. It was crazy to see how much I've changed since then. In some ways, I'm a completely different person; but in much more real ways, I'm still the same Odessa Taylor who moved up to Rexburg on September 14, 2018.
Tonight is my last night in 516. My last night in this apartment complex. Potentially my last night in Rexburg ever, though I'm confident I'll be back for visits. Most of my friends are up here; I'll have to come back at least once.
In a way, it's probably a good thing that I got kicked out of 703 early. I think it would be a lot more painful for me to say goodbye if I were still there. But I'm not. I've said goodbye and I've started to heal, and now the burden of losing the home I loved—a burden which you know was quite heavy—is not crushing me. I can focus on how I feel about leaving and graduating and moving on with my life.
What do I feel, you ask?
Well...very little, so far. The excitement of being able to move on with my life is in equal measure to the fear of leaving what I'm familiar and comfortable with, so they've just canceled each other out. There are moments of great sadness, though. But there are moments of great excitement as well. I think I've just come to terms with the fact that it's happening, and there's nothing I can do to make the time stop. It's a more optimistic feeling than it sounds.
I'm happy. I'm very happy. I've been working for this for a long time now, and I'm so glad that I can go out into the world and be confident in my skills.
But I will miss this school more than I can say. This campus is just so beautiful to me, and I think I will be devastated when I no longer have it. I know I'll be devastated. This will be a rough transition, but I'm okay with that. I know that things will turn out all right in the end because they've always turned out all right in the end.
Earlier this week, I learned something about one of my roommate's brothers that filled me with incredible hope, and today, that hope was fulfilled. He briefly came over, and as he was going back to his apartment, Hannah and I asked if we could join him. He agreed, and the three of us walked over to 703.
It's changed. But I knew it would, so I wasn't really bothered. The fridge has moved, as has the table. In fact, they have a whole new table. They moved the thermostat as well. They fixed the faucet, but not the light above the faucet. Hamilton the microwave is no longer there. Good riddance.
I was there. It has been almost an entire year since I last stepped foot in that apartment, and I honestly didn't think I would ever step foot in there again. But I did. I stood in the living room, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the hallway. I looked into the bedroom that used to be mine—the place I spent so many late nights dreading the upcoming changes and begging the universe with all my soul that I could stay. It was like I'd never left. It really felt like I had never left.
If I could handle leaving 703, then I can handle graduation. The world is going to keep on turning, and I'm sticking along for the ride. Feel free to join me.
"You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Your part in the story will go on."
