Moving is always bittersweet. It's bitter because the move itself is, of course, a pain. But it's sweet because it dredges up so many good memories.
I'm sitting here in a packed house, ready for tomorrow's truck to take everything to the storage space in San Mateo. Everything is empty shelves and boxes now, but somehow that's even more evocative of all the good times I've had here. I'm remembering the dinners, the parties, the times hanging out with roommates, the times late at night talking with a friend. I'm thinking of all the friends I've met since I bought this house in 2000, and all the old friends I've seen in it.
Someday I'll come back to this house, and I know it will still be full of good memories for me then.
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