With the amount of activities I knew I'd have going on my last few weeks in Amsterdam I thought it wise to begin my packing early. Each time I placed an item in a box though, a piece of my heart would break. After almost tearing up, two months before I was set to leave while boxing a few things up, I realized the packing process would need to wait.
My paper-thin walled apartment, with its holes in the walls and floor that let mice in until I filled every last one up with insulation foam and its drafty single paned windows, was home. Actually, it represented more than that. The 700 square foot space on Derde Hugo de Grootstraat I was packing up represented every last experience I had in the past 5 years. My growth as a person was defined while residing within its walls - more than any other place I've lived.
When my 2 week designated packing time arrived, I was surprisingly calm. Otherwise I was too stressed out trying to fit everything I wanted to do in with what I needed to do to get emotional.