I sit myself down in the center of an unfurnished room. It is completely bare, every bit of it empty except for the one corner where I place my coat and hat. This will be the last time I will truly be able to call this room mine. I will never again fall asleep to the cricket’s song in this room. I will never again watch the snow flakes tumbling down like angels granting wishes to the children below them from its solitary window. This will be the last time I pretend to be a ballerina in this room, a princess, a mermaid, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I inhale deeply and exhale out every childhood memory that I created within these four walls. I take my time remembering, collecting what’s mine from the history that is embedded so deeply into the floorboards and the ceiling, and reminding myself that no matter what I will never lose the child within me. I’m just moving her into her very own apartment.