A Letter On Finding Home Wherever You Are

I have noticed this: home does not begin with affection. It begins with familiarity.

It announces itself quietly. In small, almost forgettable moments. The first time I can drive somewhere without checking directions. The first morning I wake up and don’t have to rehearse how the day will work. The moment the landscape stops feeling like something I must navigate carefully and starts feeling like something I know how to move within.