Technically when this post goes up I’ll have lived here for a year and two weeks, but as of writing this, I have lived here for exactly a year. A year ago I finished packing up all the boxes, swam in the pool for the last time, and danced with one of my best friends in the living room before saying goodbye. A year ago my mom and I drove with our dog in the back of the car and tried to find the right road again after stopping to get some incredibly salty french fries. A year ago I trudged up the stairs of my grandparents’ house with a black suitcase before going back down the stairs to sleep in my mom’s room instead.
So much can change in a year, and the last twelve months have proved over and over again that that is true. It’s hard to start over, but in my experience it’s been worth it. Moving was good for me, even if it meant going through a lot of hard stuff to get to the good stuff. Because even though the hard stuff was definitely there, this year was so good, and I am thankful for every part of it.
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