Over the years, my local Target has become a very special place in my heart. It was where I bought my first eyeliner; it was the first place that I drove by myself when I got my license.

I know the building like the back of my hand, and can comfortably navigate through produce, clothing, cleaning supplies and books. This ensures that my Target trips are both enjoyable and efficient, and that it is always a place that I can come back to when life gets too overwhelming.

That was until Target had to go and ruin it.

It was just an ordinary evening, and my friend and I walked into Target to browse. The second that we stepped through those automatic doors and felt the air-conditioned air blast over us, we stopped dead in our tracks. Something definitely wasn't right here.

The refrigerators that used to be behind each register were now lined up by the entrance to the store, the home section was by the shoes now, and chaos had descended. Shoppers pushed their carts up and down the aisles with puzzled looks on their faces. Friendly Target employees rushed around to help customers find the new location of the product they were searching for. I found myself entirely overwhelmed at the "reorganization", and a peppy Target manager must have sensed my confusion, because she hurried over to me to explain that our Target was undergoing some "remodeling", and soon everything would be moved but we were also going to be getting a Starbucks in the store and wasn't that exciting? I could barely muster a nod as I took in the disheveled appearance of a store that I had once known so well.

At the same time, I did feel a sense of connection to the store. I too was undergoing a sort of "life remodeling", the massive change of packing up my entire life in the back of my mom's car and moving out to college. Right now, in the last month before move-in, my head is a lot like this Target. Nothing is where I expected it to be, where it's always been. I'm starting to say my goodbyes and prepare to start fresh somewhere new. Up until that point, the idea of going off to college and leaving back everything that I've always known and been comfortable with was a scary one. However, seeing my internal change physically manifest itself in a place that I was so familiar with brought me a great deal of comfort. I mean, if Target can undergo a change so massive, who's to say that any of us can't do it as well?

Maybe this is just the residual senior year, "everything is a life lesson that can be turned into a college essay" talking, but now when I go into Target each week and see it coming closer and closer to its fully remodeled state, I say to myself, "Me too, Target. Me too."