In which I am thankful for the Penthouse.

Gingerbread (pent)houses!

See these women here? I love them. I’m going to miss them. After all, we’re the Penthouse.

At the beginning of the semester, I was assigned four roommates in Apartment 8. As the semester progressed, though, I gained new friends and floormates in Apartment 9, my apartment-by-extension. We walk into each other’s apartments without knocking. We borrow cooking utensils without asking, and we share a single non-stick skillet that always seems to be in use. We’ve celebrated together, we’ve shared frustrations, and we’ve laughed at Anna Kat when she was on drugs.

Do you even know how hard it is to leave and know that these people will never be together in this place again?

I think it’s going to hit me one day next semester, when I just want to walk across the hall and laugh with Sarah, Anna Kat, Emilie, Corissa, and Genna. When I want to watch Friends or look at the quote wall or listen to pop music. When I just want to relax and know that these girls will help me procrastinate. When I just want to be with friends who understand and love me.

It hasn’t hit me yet. I’m still in the mindset that “I’m coming back; going home is only for a little while.” I don’t think I’ve quite realized that my closest friends aren’t coming back, too.

At the moment, I’m packing my apartment and getting ready for my WJC exit interview this afternoon. I’m slowly dissembling my perfect life here and putting it away in my heart to remember when I return to D.C. in a few weeks. It will be a new semester. There will be new friends, new roommates, new memories. But I’m going to plaster this place with my old memories of this semester and the friends who showed me how to be happy again. I’m going to fill my apartment with stories of “Last semester, we…” and “There was this one time…” and “Remember when…oh, wait…you weren’t here.” It’s going to be strange and awkward and probably annoying.

And I can’t think of a good way to end this blog post, because I can’t even begin to describe how much these women mean to me. I had a broken and empty heart when I came to Washington, D.C. three months ago. Now, in large part thanks to the Penthouse, my heart is very, very full.

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