Sometimes I forget that we've shared three apartments.

The first one was in Roanoke, where I found anxiety and started graduate school. I felt like such an adult, grinding my coffee beans fresh every morning and parking in my garage. Rob lived there over the summer, and then Christmas break, and then moved in for another summer after his graduation from Hampden-Sydney, but it felt less like our apartment than it felt like it was mine, even if it didn't fit.

The second one was in Charlottesville, with weird green carpet and a tiny kitchen, but a little office/guest room that made us feel like we had a home. We spent hours in libraries and computer labs, at bars with cheap drinks and cornhole set up under a string of outdoor lights, and were constantly with friends. I felt like less of an adult, with a part-time job as a barista and afternoons full of research, and I loved it.

Now we're in Minneapolis, in the high-rise apartment with a balcony and a pool we never use. It's big enough and everything is new and we finally have that bookcase from IKEA that I've always wanted. This is the apartment we have as an engaged couple, and it's the first place we'll live as newlyweds. What other defining moments (other than that impending Minnesota winter) will occur while we live under this roof, I don't know yet. But I'll look back one day and see it from the future, and I'll tell you what this place was like and what it means to us because of that.

After a year apart, I forgot that living together is something Rob and I have done before--the norm, really. We've left little parts of ourselves places and picked up and taken things with us, and now we're here, together (again).

I took the long way to an appointment on Sunday and stopped by Hollins University, the campus where I got my master's degree in Children's Literature. It had just stopped raining, and I had just met my dear friend Shawna for lunch in Daleville. The sight of the library and the post-rain mist on the mountain behind it brought back memories of the summer I spent there, dirty chai lattes in hand and copies of The Tale of Peter Rabbit tucked under my arm.

One of my favorite restaurants in the entire world is conveniently located in Charlottesville, Virginia. Mas Tapas has awesome sangria, fun margaritas, and some of the best food I've ever eaten; and because it's a tapas place, it's mostly Paleo without even trying.

Since I no longer call Charlottesville "home," I have been trying to re-create some of my favorite dishes from Mas' menu. I'm almost there with a goat cheese and artichoke dip, but it still needs work. The bacon-wrapped dates, however, I hit out of the park on my first attempt (if I do say so myself).

This is one of the easier and still most delicious things you could probably ever make. You don't have to do anything to either of the ingredients, because both ingredients are inherently perfect.

I never really got attached to Charlottesville because, while here, I constantly reminded myself that it was simply a temporary home for us. It was just another stop on our nomadic path to a one-day life of permanent, domestic bliss. Stay a year, move along.

So, when people were snobby or things didn't go smoothly for me, I said, "Whatever, that's just Charlottesville." The restaurants were good. It was nice to be able to walk wherever I wanted. But it never felt like the city in which I lived. Rob was a student, and I was almost a tourist; his live-in girlfriend, along for the ride.
I surprised myself on Thursday when I started feeling sad on my walk to get some coffee. Rob and I were only in town long enough to spend the night, pack a few things, and get brunch with some friends before heading to DC. It was early and it had rained all night, so the ground was damp and the air was cool. I would miss this place, I realized. I walked out the door and took a few steps before turning back for a scarf. The streets were quiet. The walk from apartment to coffee shop felt final.

I love Charlottesville, and I love my friends here, but I hadn't planned to feel bad about moving away.

I got to Para and ordered a latte, chatted with the barista, and took a seat at the bar to write a couple things down in a notebook. "Alright," I thought a few minutes later, "time for me to get back home." Home. I use the word loosely, and then I confuse myself with my many homes.

I walked back to the apartment, feeling a little down. There were things to pack, and the weekend would begin with Rob catching a flight to the other side of the world. But then I walked into our bedroom and crawled into the familiar arms of my still sleeping and scruffy-faced boyriend, and I felt at home, realizing that the great restaurants and that library and the coffee shop with homemade pistachio milk certainly help, but in the end, it doesn't matter if it's Charlottesville or Charlotte or Roanoke or China, because home is about who you find when you get there.

Because our lease doesn't actually end until the beginning of August, we sort of moved this weekend. A lot of our furniture is gone, and we packed up all of our clothes and school stuff, but there's still a lot of crap in our apartment.

Rob and I woke up around 9:00 on Saturday morning and got ready to go to the Farmer's Market, which was the last thing on my Charlottesville To-Do Before We Move List. We got some iced coffee, took a little walk around, said hello and goodbye to my friends at The Baker's Palette, and then walked over to The Nook for some breakfast on the patio. I had a crab and asparagus omelet. It was a beautiful thing.




It was sort of a perfect morning, and it wasn't even spoiled when we had to go home and pack up Rob's car until we couldn't see out the back window, then drive to Roanoke. We had an awesome dinner with my family, spent the night, and are now in Charlotte, North Carolina for a few days with Rob's parents.

This is our last week together before Rob goes to China for a month, so we're kind of on vacation. Get ready for photos!

Each Spring and Fall in Virginia, thousands of people dressed in their best Polo, J.Crew, and Lilly Pulitzer flock to a field just outside of Charlottesville, set up plots with tailgating necessities, and proceed to drink heavily all day in the name of some horse races. Obviously, I have always wanted to go. Rob's graduate program at UVA got us a plot and some food, so on Saturday morning we boarded the MS Commerce party bus and made our way to my very first Foxfield experience.
I fell asleep on the bus ride home, like many others. Everyone was worn out from a chilly day in the rain, but we had so much fun together. Rob's classmates have always done a fantastic job making me feel like I belong with them. When Rob and I got back to the apartment we changed into warm, dry clothes and headed to our favorite Chinese buffet. Bed time happened extra early that night. I think you know you had a good day when you find yourself calling it a night at 8:30 PM.

Currently, there are several empty corners in my apartment.

The space where a coffee table used to be. The old home of a lamp. An empty bookshelf in the corner of the office.

There was a time in my life when these empty spaces would have been a cause of anxiety and sadness. Now I look at them with joy and see how full of hope they really are. As I pack things slowly into boxes and send furniture away, I am simplifying my life.

There's something very attractive to me about doing things that aren't easy. Maybe it's the runner in me.

Go the distance. Throw things away. Make life better.

I remember a very specific moment from when Rob and I were leaving Roanoke to move here for the year. I was emptying the refrigerator in an apartment that no longer held any of our things. A broom sat, propped against another empty corner and dust covered the floor of what used to be our living room. The muggy August heat of southwest Virginia crept through the old warehouse windows of the apartment, and in that empty space, Rob pushed the hair from my sticky neck and said "I love you." That apartment wasn't empty as long as we were in it.

I have learned that an empty corner is just the beginning of something new and better.

On Friday afternoon, I ventured to Longwood to meet with my thesis advisor and then spent a few hours hanging out with my brother while he set up for his band to play a show later that night. It was warm and sunny and so good to see him.

After the recent holidays, I feel like I've barely actually stayed at our apartment in Charlottesville for a weekend in weeks. But this weekend, we stayed put. We spent time together. I cooked a lot. And baked! Our apartment is spotless and amazingly, we managed to keep it that way. I've never been so proud.

• cleaning
•  laundry
• general productivity