My childhood bedroom is now my office. A wooden desk sits where a twin bed once was, cameras and computers where Barbies once lived. Some days it feels like my past self is still here, just out of reach. This essay is about memory, leaving and returning, and what it means to live beside her again.

I spent years living in the when-then cycle: When I get this, then I’ll be happy. When I reach that milestone, then my real life begins. I chased dream after dream, but every time I arrived, I’d already set my sights on the next. It took an unexpected pause to see the truth — the in-between isn’t a waiting room. It’s where the becoming happens.

A cozy, slow travel guide to Montreal—from markets and mountaintops to courtyard cafés and scenic city walks. Thoughtful tips, local gems, and reflections from the in-between.

I never met my great-grandmother, Concetta. But somehow, she keeps showing up—in my mirror, in my kitchen, and in the quiet rituals passed down through generations. This is a story about memory, family recipes, and the invisible ways we’re shaped by the women who came before us.

When crisis cracked my life open, I learned that friendship doesn’t always look how you expect. Some people fade. Some root deeper. This is a love letter to the ones who showed up and a reflection on how I’m learning to do the same.

I didn’t delete TikTok to be more productive. I deleted it to hear myself again.

What started as a tiny rebellion against the scroll became something more—an invitation to return to my own voice, rebuild creative trust, and make space for what actually wants to grow.

Somewhere between 26 and 32, I started shrinking my desires, believing I was too old, too late, too much. But I’m learning that wanting isn’t dangerous—and naming what we want is its own quiet rebellion.

I used to think life was about getting to the next station. Now I’m learning that the real magic is in the ride itself—and that the in-between might just be where we finally feel at home.