Traveling was always something I believed to be unattainable.

I wasn’t that kind of character in life. I didn’t take the risk. I didn’t dare the devil.

But for the moment, for the story, in the season, and with the feeling—I have found courage. Maybe imposter syndrome and a little bit of whiskey.

I moved outside to find that the same tree I told you about is bearing fruit in my backyard now. Some things are pure comforts: an iced glass of Horchata, good house music, or lovely company. There is comfort that I’m trying to find in smallness, my growing and everything I do not know.

They are reminders that there is enough quiet peace in the world to will yourself to live. You just have to look around and there it is. You don’t have to wish for it—it’s already there. Everything’s changing for me, like the good change, the kind my heart and gut get excited about.