Did I particularly like this kitchen when I was living there? I'm not entirely sure. I'm very nostalgic for the style of kitchen it was (a galley kitchen), only about two people can comfortably fit in a galley kitchen before it becomes way too claustrophobic, but it was like my grandmother's kitchen, which I adored, and I can't believe when she moved out, they painted those wonderful red bricks white. But that's besides the point, the apartment I lived in shared the same alley as her house, so I got to see a lot more of my grandmother, which led to me being able to share my leftovers with her when I made too much in this kitchen. 

This was the second apartment I had when I was 19, and the first and only one I had all to myself (and my cat). My year living alone started off miserably, and I hated it, genuinely hated it. I would cry myself to sleep, and I was eating sleep for dinner the first month or so. But- it got better, as things do, and I miss this apartment and my claustrophobic kitchen now. Because it was mine. 

I miss the way the sun lit up the off-white walls, and the way it looked on all the little trinkets I had lined up, and on the water in the jar with the flowers my grandmother gave me for Valentine's Day. And honestly, sometimes I miss living in this apartment where two doorknobs fell off while I was turning them. (It wasn't a great apartment.)