True to her fashion, she assured me I would never have to leave if I still felt the same when I was older. She said I could always attend college while living with them, and her words and promises soothed me.
Of course, once I was a senior in high school, our conversation was almost long forgotten to me as I began excitedly envisioning life on a college campus; the thought of choosing a school so I could live with my parents never crossed my mind.
Then, over the coming months, as I found myself saying goodbye to my childhood home and the city where I'd grown up, I began to feel that old desire to never have to leave. That summer, as the days before I left for school grew fewer, I continually reminded myself, "change is good," as I tried to accept moving forward and letting go.
I've moved more than a few times since then, and each move, I've been faced with a combination of excitement for what lies ahead and sadness for what I'm leaving behind. Each place I've left has become part of me. Each new place I've come to love.
It was where we spent our last hours together before E's two deployments and where we reunited following many long months apart. Then, between those walls, we transitioned from a military life to a civilian one.
The night my parents left me in my freshman dorm room, I was overwhelmed by a mix of sadness, happiness, and hope for the promise of what lie ahead; I strongly felt each of those emotions again in the tear-filled moment when E and I stood in our kitchen and said our final goodbye to a place brimming with more memories than we could count.
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