The feeling didn’t really hit me until my mom and I drove off in her Jeep and the numbers 1242 became less visible.

We spent almost all day packing up boxes and figuring out where to put what. It felt like it was never going to end, but then it did. We packed up the last box and my dad and my uncle were off in that huge truck they rented with all of my grandma’s stuff. My aunt, my grandma, and my cousin were in another car, but they were all ready to drive 17 hours to move my grandma to a different state.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, but a rather bittersweet goodbye. A lot of memories were made on the 3rd floor of 1242. One of the more recent ones being when we celebrated this past Thanksgiving there. It was the last planned family event to take place at my grandma’s and it was different. I could tell from the second I walked into her home that this family event was going to be different than all the ones we ever had in the past.

Most of that Thanksgiving was spent reminiscing and trying to fit too many people into a small third floor apartment, but it was the nicest Thanksgiving we’ve ever had. The best part of it for me was when we were blessing the food and we went around and each said what we’re thankful for. I remember everyone had something to say about the house we were standing in and the people in it, but one person brought up someone else. A person who’s been gone from this family for a while, but who still gets talked about like it was yesterday; my grandpa. When he was brought up tears started streaming down everyone’s face, even my cousins and I who never had the chance to meet him, were crying. At that moment, I realized why 1242 played such an important role in my family's life.

To me it was always a great place to be and my grandma always made you feel welcomed, but it was and will always be so much more than that. It was the place my grandma and grandpa started their family. The place my dad grew up in with his four siblings and their amazing parents. The place where my sister and I spent a great deal of time at discussing sweet nothings with my grandma. The place that always felt like home and the place where the family gathered after a long day at work to eat gumbo and stay up late for no reason at all. 1242 was the place where we could laugh, cry, and make fun of each other and know that we would always have each other.

So you see, 1242 is way more than a number and a whole lot more than just an apartment building. It’s a place where memories were made and family passed through, but more importantly it’s a place where family became family.