Some believe that a girl should never give up a good apartment—not even for marriage.
However, I didn’t get that particular memo until long after I’d already married (and long after I’d traded in my studio for a larger unit, sans the dazzling skyline view).
Do I wish that I’d kept the place, so that Jeff and I might have a cozy little unit in which to reside whenever we returned to Minneapolis for a brief visit? Not really. After all, paying monthly rent on a place that we’d probably only use two weeks out of the year wouldn’t make much fiscal sense. But oh, what a view it was . . .
Nowadays, Jeff and I live in a large apartment on the outskirts of Philadelphia. Our space is sunny in the mornings, and filled with furniture and decor that holds significance to us and makes our place a home. We live within walking distance of what are unarguably the best hiking trails in the region. Plus, we’re an easy drive from New York, D.C., or even Boston. However, the view—while sort of quaint in its own, unassuming way—is nothing to write home about.
Then again, it’s what’s inside that counts . . .