Dos años más tarde ...

My mom's got a point. "Even physical wounds would have healed by now," she says, while urging me to fix the two-year-old hole in my wall. When the event first happened, I was too ashamed to go to the leasing office to have them fix it. Then, I thought it served as a powerful reminder of what I left behind; I'd look at it in my moments of weakness.

But now it's just a downer.

We brainstorm ways to beautify it. I could ask the office to fix it, but that creates other complications -- namely raising awareness that I have an undeclared (feline) roommate. I could stick a photo there but that seems pretty random in the general scheme of my apartment's decorations. My mom sent me two pieces of art from Colombia a few months ago that I hadn't hung yet because they had gotten lost when I held them up on other walls. I decided to start with one. Tonight seemed as good as any other to take the bull by the horns and say "Hasta la vista!" to bad memories.

Before:

After:

Much better, no? :)