Small Apartment Big Life

         Most people never notice the formative moments in life naturally unfolding until much later. The moments that are expected to be big often turn into blurs. I have found it is more often the small moments which enchant my memories years later. The day I moved in with my now husband was no different.

         There was never a formal decision to move in together. No long drawn out discussion, or big fights as Hollywood romances would lead you to believe. For two broke college students it seemed the most economical choice. We both wanted to move off campus, and it was much cheaper to do it together. Our housing criteria was simple, as inexpensive as can be. This ended up being the basement apartment of a duplex, complete with poor ventilation and a major spider infestation. For $595 a month who wouldn’t learn to love arachnids and the smell of fish from dinner a week prior. Moving day was simple as all of our worldly possessions fit into the trunk of a car, and consisted mainly of old Nickleback CD’s and college text-books that would most likely never be opened. In a matter of hours all of our things were unpacked. We were enjoying the house as young people in love often do.

         Surrounded by the constant buzz of our upstairs neighbors, and the smell soaked walls of our tiny apartment, we made three very important decisions as a couple. The first decision we made was that vodka is never a good idea. As college students it seemed only fitting we christen our new apartment with a celebratory house party. We did not take into account the small stature of our apartment, the dangerous stairs, or that drunk people could turn any kitchen utensil into a weapon of mass destruction. The only thing we did to prepare for this party was buy a giant bottle of the bottom shelf vodka. As people showed up, the space felt smaller and smaller, so we decided to drink more and more. Soon we were on flimsy chairs playing a drinking game. Drunk people of all unbalanced sizes hopping from chair to chair is never a good idea, but does make for some good laughs. As our guests desperately tried to stay on the chairs they used our low hanging ceiling as a brace. The horrid white popcorn texturing came flying down like a freak blizzard in a Montana summer. Instead of stopping the mess we drank on, passing the problem off to future us. I admittedly got drunker than I should have. When my boyfriend tried to take away the precious vodka bottle, things got ugly. Words were said and secrets came out. They shook our relatively new relationship to the core. Looking back now I know that without that bottle of vodka we wouldn’t have been forced to work on our relationship and the lies would have come out eventually. One bottle of vodka and a bad decision gave our relationship the strength it needed to go from casual to serious. Cleaning ceiling popcorn off the floor with a hangover was enough to convince us to swear off the evils of vodka forever. Now open communication, and plain ceilings are a regular part of our lives.

         The second decision we made was much more profound than throwing a house party. We discovered I may be unable to bear children. The previous life ending moments of my teen years seemed so trivial now. Up until the unexpected moment the doctor delivered that news, I had always thought kids were never in my life plan. I was going to be a take charge career woman who didn’t have time to raise crib midgets. Sitting with my boyfriend in our plain room listening to the neighbor’s kids wildly run upstairs, I had never wanted kids more. Looking at my boyfriend I knew without waiver, we were meant to have children together. Having to tell him we needed to try for kids immediately or risk never having them was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The doctor’s news had made my womb ache on a level I didn’t know was possible. I would have been devastated if my boyfriend said he didn’t want children. The risk of losing him was immense. With a shaky voice I told him everything tears springing from my eyes. After much more discussion than our quick decision to move in together, we decided to try for a baby. The next few months were lost in a whirlwind of passion and lust. One day, the stick turned pink. We were going to be parents. Nine months later we brought back a beautiful baby boy. This was the moment the tiny spider-infested basement became home.

         The third decision we made was to leave the cheapness of our hide-a-way basement. My husband had graduated from college; our life was no longer contained in a few small boxes. Tiny babies have way more belongings than two college kids. As we packed our stuff I marveled at how much had happened. How the decision to move in together had resulted in a love strong enough to create a child. Late night study sessions turned into late night baby feedings. We went from boyfriend and girlfriend to husband and wife. We graduated from college and became parents all in the span of a year. When we were originally picking an apartment, I never would have thought a dingy place could hold so much meaning. Despite the popcorn ceiling, leaky faucet, and the ever lingering smell of dinner, that apartment had become our home. Now, fondly looking back, I realize it is the foundation for the fulfilling life we have now.

If we hadn’t moved into that tiny apartment we wouldn’t have been forced to communicate. I never would have known someone’s socks being on the floor would be enough to dissolve me to tears. I may have never noticed I never throw wrappers away. Living with the person I loved was like looking into a terribly unflattering mirror. Every decision went from being solely mine to ours. The walls of the basement soaked up many swear words and fights. Looking in the retro mirror of our small bathroom with cold tile floors and awful florescent lights I noticed myself turn from a girl into a woman. Now as I stand in a new bathroom, in a bigger apartment my belly swollen with our second baby on the way, I think fondly of the tiny apartment. I am thankful for the foundation it provided our love. If I close my eyes just right the noise of my rambunctious toddler brings me back to the tiny walls of that basement apartment and I a rush of gratitude washes over me for the change of course it provided me.