Life is better than a cinnamon flavored cereal.

I hardly write about my life on here, I'm realizing. I guess that's because I feel inhibited. I feel inhibited when I see the number of people who come here, who read my words, who take my thoughts. I feel inhibited because I don't know what their purpose is for reading my words. Your purpose.

And sometimes I am frightened by what I don't know.

But today, I was reading this lovely girl's blog, and I realized that I'm kind of exhausted from being so guarded. Like her, I miss the sanctuary that this blog used to be for me. I miss the release that it once gave me. The freedom.

I want it back.

LJ and I moved a little more than a week ago. We moved from 4o sq feet, wall-to-wall sitting and sleeping arrangement, pink tiled and retro-countered, broken-disposal and 9000 degrees at night first apartment to a newer, two-bedroom, with dirty-carpets, 3x the storage and floor space, and cable-enabled apartment.

The day we moved, I was pretty much incommunicado, because I was throwing the lovely Brooke Beecher soon to be Schultz a bridal shower. So after moving all of our stuff and dishes and bed and futon and dresser and clothes and crap with help from my family and one kind soul from the Elder's quorum, LJ held the responsibility of cleaning the old apartment himself. Which he did, being the awesome husband that he is.

After the bleach and windex spree, he locked up.

And then he said goodbye.

And all of this? Well, without me.

I won't lie, I cried a little when I came home to our new, boxy apartment with dirty smelling carpets and realized that we no longer had the key to our first home.

That tiny amount of square-feet had held our first downfalls. Our first triumphs. It held our first arguments, and our first family home evenings. It held our newlywed excitement of coming home to the other. It held our first Christmas, our first dinner. It held a lot of life's lessons, a lot of teaching moments, a lot of work, mixed with a lot of love and understanding.

It took me a while, but I'm not sad, now.

Goodbyes are always worth good cries, though.

Life is full of triumphs. Life is full of memories. Life is full of new, teaching, learning experiences. It is full of downfalls. It is full of lessons. And if you let it, it can be full of love.

And sometimes, you have to let the moments of the past punch themselves into your memory box so you can move on, so you don't put the process on hold.

Also, I cleaned the carpets.

They look amazing, and no longer smell.