My parents bought a house. I can’t believe their dream has arrived. It’s real, and I’ve seen glimpses into a type of permanence we've never had. The story behind it is a little unconventional, and not quite worth telling from my side. What I can say is that I wasn't there with them when it happened.
 

When you don’t live with people, the way you find out about most things are through a few means: a phone call, pictures, other people talking, social media posts, etc. What I got after a little bit of that was a "you're going to love it." And I believe them. I also believed I was supposed to feel something cleaner than what I did.
 

I think I've been writing toward this chapter the whole time without knowing it. The question that started all of this — what did I carry with me, and what got left behind? — turns out to have an answer I didn't anticipate: sometimes, a home gets made without you, and you arrive to it already belonging. 

Let’s see what I learn when I get there.