One of my roommates moved out last night.

It's been long in the coming, when we resigned last year, entering our sixth year together in this apartment, we resigned with the knowledge that we were all going our separate ways within the year.

Some things had happened over the last two years that catalyzed the three of us growing apart and we agreed that we would resign and probably not finish out the lease with the three of us.

Toward the end, it was sometimes awkward in the apt., the three of us not having much to say to each other. Living new and very separate lives. What we had was tradition and the comfort of the routine. It was what we knew. Six years of what we knew.

Six years is a long time. For me, it's six dog years because I've never had a roommate for that long. I've never had a relationship that long.

And even though we'd grown apart, I found myself oddly sentimental last night, standing alone for the first time in our apartment without her and without her things, hearing my movements echo in her stripped bare bedroom.

I remembered when we moved in, just days before my 24th birthday. It was so exciting, this new chapter in my life. I remember those first years when we terrorized this town together, the three of us and often just her and me. Her picking up boys in the bodega at late night or me making out with strangers on the street corner. Drunken talks when we decided we were more like sisters than friends and we were so happy to have become roommates.

I haven't thought about those times in years, I've been so busy growing apart from her and up for me. Last night I remembered those early years in a moment and felt nostalgic and lucky, for having had those times. I can't imagine who I would be now if I hadn't lived with her.

And then she walked in, as I stood there in the empty room. She came to pick up the last of her things. She startled me.

I didn't want to watch, as she threw the last few items into boxes. I remembered that I had something for her, so I ran upstairs to my bedroom and I dug around until I found it.

I had a lucky horseshoe that I had saved for her, to hang in her new apartment for good luck. I gave it to her and we hugged and said goodbye as her boyfriend waited in the elevator. She invited me to come down to her new place so that I wouldn't have to be alone in the apartment we had shared.

I declined. I needed to face these demons alone. I needed time to process what this was, The End.

Some people have a simple transitions into their 30's, for me it's been like hitting a brick wall. Shoved up hard in my face for me to run into so I make no mistake about what is happening in my life.

This chapter is ending. In 43 days I will be 30. Today I started preparing, by joining my remaining roommate and cleaning what we could. Wiping down walls and floors. Filling empty closets.

Putting some elbow grease into a new beginning.

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