The empty, abandoned shell of my previous home shrinks in the background of this ever-expanding world, lonely and wallowing in the massive, geometric shadow of my new hotel abode.

Translation: I used to live in Schwitzer; now, I live in Fairview.

My past co-room-dweller now resides across the sunset river of asphalt, in a far away, inaccessible-to-me house with her two new and current co-room-dwellers.

Translation: My old roommate now lives in a sorority house and I miss her.

My new co-room-dweller is wonderful and my gratitude extends to the farthest reaches of space for her being my current co-room-dweller. However, the curtains have just barely been pulled and Act 1, in which characters meet and discover the habits, patterns, and manners of each other, is just beginning.

Translation: I have an awesome new roommate whom I'm excited to get to know.

A year ago, I met bundles of mystical honorary Japanese flames in a red panda costume and we, dressed like the magical Maggie Smith, moved our knights and bishops above the fountain, below the bell. Although I don't remember who won. And now she has morphed into a tall hobbit whose hobbit hole is above ground and covered in canvases, also across the sunset river of asphalt.

Translation: My best friend doesn't live down the hall from me anymore and I am sad.

The two souls from room 106 have moved closer to me, although now I have to make more turns to get to them. Their bedspreads have evolved and their ottomans aren't as ottoman as they used to be. But thankfully, they are are the same souls whom I love and they, too, are dwellers of the same hotel abode.

Translation: My best friends moved from Unit 3 to Unit 2 with me and I am grateful.

The topography of my world has changed. My window greets a different sun. I have aged a few months, forgotten many pieces of knowledge, and gained new wisdom. Let the year begin.