747 SE 30th Ave. #3

It’s never been a really hard thing for me to move out of somewhere. I can remember moving out of my mothers house and looking at my room when it was bare of my belongings and feeling relief, and excitement that I had finally grown up, graduated high school and was going to pioneer Europe and then the Wild West with a crazy friend and a diesel engine Mercedes full of my shit, sitting in the driveway purring waiting to go, to make a break for what we’d never seen. I can remember moving out of my house in Tennessee when I lived with my Dad for awhile and I felt so good about leaving that little farm house in 9th grade because I was going home, I was going back to Georgia. I certainly never missed a damn thing about my dorm room in college, that ones hardly even worth noting except for the fact that that’s where I gained Krispin and Abe, two the best friends a man could ever hope for. Last summer I was in Georgia and when I moved back to Oregon I lived with my dearest friends in their basement and I can remember how that felt too. When I left there I was excited to have a place of my own, I was going to miss seeing the boys on such a consistent basis but it was good, again, I felt like I was growing up and I was madly in love with a woman and things were scary and exciting.
Right now I’m sitting on my bed, looking at what’s left of this place I moved into last October. The kitchen is bare; the bathroom is butt naked outside of a roll of toilet paper that I own. My room is full of a few things that have yet to go, the living room holding only a small table and a lamp, and the back room still has some clothes, my bike, and a couple guitars in it. I’ve never been in a room that was so empty physically but so damn full emotionally. I’m alone right now. I’m happy but I’m so damn sad. As crazy as this little hole is, it’s been my home for a year now. I’ve never lived in a place where so much love was bred. From Andy and Eric, Whitney, Davis, all of my Southern friends that have shacked up here at one time or another, to the Sunday “Family Time” crew, and Laura, Laura and I became Laura and I in this place. I’ve had the best Valentine’s Day of my life in this apartment, phenomenal parties with phenomenal people, I’ve cried my eyes out, seen the Lord, been too drunk to talk, all in this little apartment. I learned how to cook and feed myself, pay rent, maintain (to some extent) a livable household. It’s in the best place in this country, and I will miss it severely. I feel like the twenty years spent outside of this apartment and the growth I did during those years doesn’t begin to compare to the growth I’ve done in this apartment, this is where I grew up, this is where I learned what a man is and what I need to do to become one.
I just wanted to say thanks to all of you that helped make this place a home and a wonderful place for all of us to be. We certainly had the time of our lives in this little hole. I know you will all miss it terribly and I will certainly join you in that. God Bless 747 SE 30th Ave!

-Trippe