There I was in my favorite coffee shop, on my favorite street, in my favorite city enjoying a relaxing morning and a much needed coffee date with myself, when I received a text from my roommate that read "Check your email".
"What could she possibly be sending me right now?" I wondered as I finished my vanilla latte and logged into my gmail. My eyes immediately rested on an email from our landlord and as I opened it and scanned the contents, my stomach dropped and a sharp pain spread from my finger tips to the depths of my heart.
"After much debate, we have decided to sell the house. Thank you for being wonderful tenants and let's discuss a move out date soon" the email read simply.
My mind raced at a million miles an hour. "They're selling the house?!?" I gasped, how could they do this to me? That house on Hooker Street is the only place I've ever lived in Denver for gods sakes! It's where we met the boys next door and subsequently, our first new friends in Denver. It's where we threw one too many parties and consequently, many morning-after recap brunches. It's where I was when I opened the email that informed me that I had gotten my first real career job. It's where I experienced my second true heart break and attempted to mend it with endless red wine and black and white indie films. It's where we planned our next vacations, our next dinner parties and our next steps in life. That house is the first place that I have considered home since I left my parents house for the beaches of California and college in San Diego. That house is my Denver. How on earth could they be selling my house, my home?
I spent the rest of the day crying on the couch, trying to wrap my head around the fact that in a few short months, I would be moving and leaving behind a chapter of my life that could easily be considered one of the best.
"It's just a pile of bricks" my friend Ben told me as I desperately tried to explain my feelings to him over the phone that evening. "You have the memories and you'll have them forever. Plus, you get to make another place in Denver your home. And also, why is this such a big deal? You love change." he concluded. And as I sat there soaking in his honesty and his extremely rude comment about 2974 being just a "pile of bricks", I realized that I actually dislike change very much.
Now, I understand that this notion of hating change seems extremely bizarre coming from a girl who has moved to new cities, states, and even countries at the drop of a hat. And I guess I should clarify that when I'm ready for it, I love change. I have a unique ability to leave places and people that I deeply care about behind, in order to seek out new destinations and new people to love elsewhere. I am fully capable of creating my my own future and changing my life to match what is important to me at a certain time. I embrace change on my own accord and pride myself on being able to adapt well when I hurl myself blindly into the unknown however, when it is decided for me, I have an extremely hard time accepting change.
I'm absolutely terrible at adapting to situations that I don't have control over. I like deciding my own fate way too much. Which in itself is an oxymoron I guess, because you can't decide your fate can you? You can only make decisions that lead you down one path or the other and the rest, the rest is up to destiny.
So, after a couple days of wallowing in sadness and hating the forced change that is coming my way in a few short weeks, I picked up the pieces and began scouring craigslist for a new place to call home. As I emailed various new landlords with questions regarding square footage and the "feel of the neighborhood", I finally came to terms with the fact that so much of life is out of my reach. Yesterday, as my roommate and I signed the lease for our new place, on a new street, symbolizing a new beginning in Denver, I realized that I must accept the things that I have no control over. Because it is change that propels us forward and forces us to leave our comfort zones, whether we plan for it or not. And in the end, isn't that what I have always craved the most? That feeling of newness, the ability to reinvent myself and the idea that I never have to settle.