A Farewell to a Home I Loved
My apartment in Dallas was the home that signified my new beginning. It was my oasis in the trees after a long trek through the desert. There was the porch I sat on with Amanda, who had flown in on a moment's notice and of her own accord, because I had just called to tell her I had cancer. For a while she was the only person in the world who knew. It was the place where I recovered from an unexpected mastectomy, just two months after moving in. It was where my friends, from all over the country, came to stay, to cook, to laugh, and to care for my dog while I endured chemotherapy treatments. It was where I fell in love with my husband. It was from that back window that I looked down and saw him for the first time when he pulled up for our first date. It was at those stairs that I nervously waited and those walls that I gave him an unnecessary tour of when he first arrived. That apartment was where my cousin came to take care of me when I was randomly sick and scared of