I played pretend between the trees.

Things have been a bit melancholy in Jen-ville these days. Perhaps it's because I don't have an All-Sport Pass. Perhaps it's the absence of my best friend Whitney. Perhaps it's because it's been really tough to get together with my family and I miss them. Perhaps it's because a season and a chapter is finally closing and I'm reluctant to say goodbye.

New apartments are always fascinating. There are all these new idiosyncrasies. New holes in the walls (or in my case, wall in between holes), different organization and arrangement of clothing, books, or supplies, a smaller bathroom that doesn't allow for the sweet set-up you've had the last 2 years... My things are all the same, luckily I don't need to adjust to a new wardrobe or new facial products or new bedding. I still get to cuddle up to my gorgeously soft, mint green comforter every evening and I still get to punch the same pillow each night because I am never, ever truly comfortable.

But everything feels a little off. This new apartment is architecturally (side note: this is a delightful word to say) opposite from my last. The window is on the wrong side, the door opens the opposite way, the shower head is across from where it should be. Everything is organized in a slightly different fashion because things don't fit quite like they did a week and a half ago. While primping for the day in the bathroom, I keep turning behind myself, reaching for my makeup drawer, only to discover that its new home is next to my dresser in the bedroom. It's amazing how far that walk feels these days.

Even more amazing is knowing that a year from now, I won't be able to remember what it feels like to turn, walk a step, and grab my drawer and the mug containing my makeup brushes. Awakening to sun on the left side of my face will be the only way to go. The quick locking of the door with my right hand instead of my left will be second nature. I've lived in a lot of different houses throughout my short lifetime and I hate that the rooms are beginning to blend together. I try and picture the Skyview Lane second floor, with its 3 bedrooms and bathroom Scott and I used to share and all I can see is mom and dad's pink carpeted bedroom from Deacon's Way. I try to remember the two different piano rooms, but all I can see is the piano--where was it placed? Where was the couch? The window? Were the floors wooden or carpeted? I spent so many hours at that piano...you'd think I could remember what it was like to sit in there and practice the partitas and the nocturnes and the waltzes and the etudes.

I wish I could remember those pieces.

Here I sit, on the final weekend before another school year begins and all I can do is remember what things felt like and I wish that I could just forget. Everything is going to be so different and I'm scared. The summer has been the bridge from one key to the next key and I'm scared that the new key isn't going to suit my voice as well as the old one did. Even if the old one wasn't quite a perfect fit, it was comfortable and easy and felt safe. Now I face the prospect of transposing my life to fit this new key and I'm still not sure if it's supposed to be G major or A minor. Everything has been played in D flat major all summer, fun, flirty, exciting, and bright, but it's not exactly been real. It's been a band-aid, avoiding the emotional implications of a haunting melody, using a saccharine sweet tune instead. But E minor is creeping out again, reminding me of the memories and the apartment, and the friends, and the routine. Reminding me of the key that was once mine.

Now I have to get serious. I have to figure out where everything fits. I have to turn the opposite way for everything I desire. I have to remember to take my makeup drawer and mug of brushes with me into the bathroom before I jump into the shower.

And as much as I want to forget it all and let the band aid mold to my skin, I know that a year from now I'm going to look back and wonder how I ever sang in E minor. How did I ever sleep with the window on my right side? How did I ever fit everything into that bathroom? How was I ever worried about the new adjustment?

I'm not sure which prospect is scarier and I wish I could just keep playing pretend for a few more weeks.