How to Begin Again
To a friend whose boxes are unpacked, but whose roots haven't taken hold (yet).
Step 1. Breathe.
This is the best way to begin anything: with air in your lungs. Let the silence of unfamiliar space and newness of the city wash over you. Don’t force it away. Sit on the floor before your furniture arrives. Look out the window and see nothing you recognize. Remember: this is the point.
Step 2. Unpack, slowly.
Leave your favorite mug until last. Put away the things you brought that remind you of home, even though it’s not, yet. Hang the art, even if it feels like someone else’s walls. Light the candle. Speak out loud so your voice fills the space. It’s yours now. You don’t have to believe that, yet.
Step 3. Miss everything at once.
The coffee shop with the mismatched chairs. The street signs you didn't realize you’d memorized. Miss the version of you who knew where to park, who didn’t need to ask. Miss them even though you chose this. Write, if it helps. Write without apology.
Step 4. Wander your new city.
Not to find anything, but to soften its edges. Count the laundromats. Notice the smell of a bakery at 5 a.m. Watch the sunrise from an unfamiliar perch. Walk until your legs know this city as something that wants you in it. Get lost. It’s the best way to be found.
Step 5. Call someone who loves you. (Call me.)
Even if you have nothing to say. Especially then. Let them remind you of the constants. Let them laugh at how dramatic you sound. Hold the phone like a lifeline, because for now, it might feel that way. Tell them you’re trying your best.
Step 6. Go somewhere crowded.
Not to belong, but to practice not minding that you don’t. Sit quietly. Eavesdrop. Smile at someone’s child or dog. Let the noise blur the loneliness. Feel the city press gently against you. It’s not ignoring you. It’s just busy being itself. One day, you’ll be part of this background music too.
Step 7. Let the strange become familiar.
The barista who remembers your order. The florist who offers a stem on the house. You don’t need deep connections yet. Start with “hi.” Let eye contact be its own kind of intimacy. This is how a life starts to take shape: one mundane kindness at a time.
Step 8. One morning, forget you were ever new.
You’ll wake up and your house will feel like home. You’ll walk the block and know every crack in the sidewalk. The ache will have dulled into something like tenderness. You’ll hear someone ask for directions, and you’ll answer. You’ll get it right. I promise.
Here’s to the friends who love us. And the us who loves them back.
Comb your hair. Wear the nice dress. Go outside. Give it your best.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
"Miss everything at once." <3