It’s been about a year since I’ve had a roommate, and I think I’ve discovered that living with someone else is better than living alone. At least for me.

I had a sneaking suspicion that I would feel this way, even a year ago when I told my best friend I’d be moving out of state. She was ecstatic for me, but we both felt this twinge of sadness that this would probably be the last time we lived together. (At least until we’re both old and wreaking havoc on whichever nursing home lets us in.)

We spent our last night together in an empty house - so many things were changing as that summer came to a close. She was moving across the city; I was moving across a few states; her brother was moving back into the college dorms; our quiet roommate who lived upstairs was moving out; the house was being sold. The space was emptying. 

I typed out a few of those last few memories of Kansas City on my phone’s Notes app before it was no longer my home, and they are just as ridiculous and wonderful as when we lived them. We spent that last day deep cleaning out the fridge, getting it ready to be picked up by someone else who would get to enjoy it. I’m not sure why, but we didn’t realize a glaring truth about cleaning out a fridge before a big move: eat everything or throw it all away. 

We agonized over this dilemma, both of us too attached to either the food itself or the money spent on it as we playfully argued over what would be tossed and what we could eat right this instant...and what we could destroy for fun. 

I started on a gallon of Bryer’s Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream that I really hated to throw out while Elisa played a game she very aptly named, “who’s the strongest egg?” It should be pretty self-explanatory, but here are some details anyway, in case anyone wants to play at home. She’d place an egg in each hand, name them both, and then slam them together. Whichever one didn’t break made it to the next round, until one final Strongest Egg was left. 

“Also, my mom left us old sparklers she found,” Elisa said at one point in the evening. After rummaging through an already packed box to find a lighter, we went out on the front porch at 9:30pm and tried to light them. They were so broken, it was almost a complete failure. Almost. The moment was still made special by the fact that we were both buying time together - don’t go to sleep yet, don’t empty the space yet. 

Before heading to the church dumpster to get rid of our trash bags full of the fridge food we couldn’t keep, we tried to load the dishwasher with our final few dirty dishes. Elisa’s mom had already cleared under the sink, taking with her all the dishwasher pods, so we added regular dish soap like a couple of buffoons. That was fun to clean up. Soap bubbles everywhere. 

After the visit to the church dumpster, we got McDonald’s fries and watched YouTube until it was time to sleep before our long haul to Tennessee. My final night in KC wasn’t the most eventful, but it was wonderful nonetheless. 

While I don’t miss the state much, I miss my roommate. Living alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, at least not for me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my alone time. Sometimes I really need it, and having a door to close and a room to myself is nice. 

But I only need a room, not a whole home. 

A whole empty home hurts sometimes. I miss walking out of my bedroom and seeing someone cooking in the kitchen or lounging on the couch or loading the laundry machine. Even if we don’t even talk, I like knowing someone else is in the shared space with me. But now I walk out of my bedroom into an empty living room next to an empty hallway next to an empty kitchen, and it’s not my favorite. 

I had a guest over this weekend and I didn’t realize how much I’d love having her there. She was visiting with her fiancé, who stayed with Tucker, so I didn’t see her all the time. But she filled the space. It was nice to come home to someone and just briefly talk about our days, especially with someone experiencing parts of Chattanooga for the first time and loving it. Even when she wasn’t there, the space wasn’t empty. A coffee mug by the sink. A phone charger on the kitchen counter. A pair of Chaco’s by the front door. A hair straightener in the bathroom. I loved it. 

It was almost like having a roommate again. 

I think the solution is simple: invite more people over. Fill the space. 

So if there’s anyone who wants to come over for coffee or ice cream or a round of “who’s the strongest egg,” my door is always open and I have extra eggs. Help me fill the space.