This past weekend, among all the stress of my move to a new place, I found myself on a road trip to Decatur, Illinois.
I got the keys to my new apartment on Friday, so one could argue that I was busy enough without devoting all of Saturday to a trip up north. In fact, I argued that, several times, with myself, debating whether or not to go.
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But I bought concert tickets months ago, before the lease was signed, and the concert was on Saturday at the Decatur amphitheater. So I spent Friday at work, then did a flurry of cleaning and moving on Friday night, and then was up bright and early on Saturday for a two-hour drive.
I lived in Decatur for a few years when I was going to college at Millikin University, so the drive itself wasn’t a problem. It felt nostalgic to navigate the backroads, a route I discovered eight years ago (!!) when I first visited campus.
The main struggle was staying awake after my late Friday night. I blared music and drove blearily through the morning, mentally making a checklist of things I still needed to bring to the apartment.
Returning to Decatur was…weird, to say the least. I felt immediately at home and also bizarre. On the outside, nothing had changed. But everything is different. I’m no longer the nervous 17-year-old I was when I first stepped foot on that campus, nor am I the 22-year-old who graduated with her head held high. I’m someone else completely.
A few of my friends still live in Decatur or nearby, so I had made arrangements to meet up with one of my buddies for the day. Even though I felt different and changed, our dynamic hadn’t shifted at all in the three years since I graduated. We joked and vibed all day. I regaled him with tales of the apartment and he shared moving tips that I immediately forgot.
As evening approached, I drove my partner to Millikin University to check out the college. We walked through the campus, empty in these first few weeks of summer, and I pointed out important landmarks.
“That’s the building where I had most of my classes. There’s the statue of Abraham Lincoln, for some reason. That’s the bench where I would sit and write love poems before I met you and knew what love was,” I rattled off.
All of a sudden, it was time for the concert. Even though I lived in Decatur for four years, I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t actually know Decatur had an amphitheater, and I got us thoroughly lost on the way there. Eventually we found our way to the venue and settled into our seats on the lawn, overlooking the beautiful Lake Decatur on a nice, chilly early summer evening.
The concert — The Fray, for anyone wondering — was great, but then it was late and I was exhausted. Returning home that night, I switched from concert mode back into moving mode. From 11 p.m. to 1 a.m., I did the bulk of my packing, with plans to spend Sunday and Memorial Day Monday finalizing the move.
That’s exactly how it went, and now, as I write this on Tuesday, I’ve reached the end of my rope. I declare myself “moved in enough.”
Do I still have miscellaneous boxes at my parents’ house? Absolutely. Is the living room empty as I wait on a couch to be delivered? You betcha.
But the majority of my things are in the apartment now, and that’s the most I can ask for at the moment. The rest will come in time as I get settled. And I’ve loved every minute of making this space into my own.
So it was a busy weekend! Something tells me it won’t settle down until another few weeks from now, when I finally unpack everything and really ease into the new space.
But it was a very full-circle moment to visit the city where I had my first apartment and foray into adulthood on the same weekend I was moving and beginning a new chapter. Incredibly satisfying, if a little overwhelmingly busy.
I’m onto the next phase of my life, but it was fun to revisit one of my favorite phases from a few years ago as I prepare to embark on this next journey. I’m excited. Good things are here.
