This week, I’m moving into a new apartment.

A lot of people don’t like moving. It can be disruptive, expensive and filled with complications. The new place might have broken elevators, noisy neighbours and be far worse than advertised. I don’t mind it, though. This is my third move in three years and I’ve begun to look forward to this annual tradition.

I like the nostalgia of digging up old relics and reminiscing on old times. I like looking at a worn, torn article of clothing, remembering how much I used to wear it, and putting it in a donate basket. I like throwing out junk from under a bed or behind a desk, appreciating a sight of a room without clutter. I like cleaning the apartment once it’s empty, restoring it to its initial condition, despite there being 12 months of precious memories in my memory.

I like moving into a new place, inhabiting the space where other people once lived. I like imagining the laughter, the tears, the mundane meals that were had in the different rooms; rooms now free for us to use. I like walking into an empty bedroom and being able to design it in a way that suits my current values and personality, like it is a canvas ready to be painted on.

Most of all, I like the reminder that time is full of transitions. That people evolve, and new apartments can be vessels for this shifting nature.

Here’s to a new year, and new memories.