I learned to walk on Broadwood Drive, posed for prom on Anderson Avenue. Decorated my first dorm on Fifth, and spent six life-changing months abroad on Newton Way. My fellow missionaries and I called ourselves the Peterdaughters on Peterson Street, and I fell in love with New York on Bleecker Street. I suffered a lonely but transformative year on Cricket Avenue, and now, I reside on Fairmount Avenue in my beloved home. But you know my favorite street of all? The one that enco

Every time, no matter what, I’m swept off my feet. My pulse quickens and a spontaneous smile arrives on my face. There’s at once a feeling of soul-deep comfort and a tremendous delight in the excitement, the brilliance of it all. And no, this is no tall, dark, and handsome gentleman I’m referring to. It’s…well, Manhattan. Yes, that glorious gem of an island overstuffed with humanity. I called it home for nine short months over two years ago, but still it draws me most powerfu

I’ve moved nine times in the past eight years. I’ve lived with 23 people. I’ve traveled to California and Texas, Mexico and England, Italy and Spain, Paris and Poland. I’ve made new friends and settled into cities and mourned the loss of those I’ve left behind. Change after change after change. And you know what? I love it. I love that, just about this time each year, I pack up for a summer adventure. I love that moving causes me to cast aside the needless stuff I’ve accumula

I hadn’t been home for three months. You know that distinct delight of a homecoming? Enveloping hugs, familiar meals, the perfect rest of belonging. I’ve returned to my squeaky twin bed, years of framed school pictures, the joy of family life. There’s a certain timelessness here, in the home where I grew up. I fall into the comfort of a quiet routine, of lazing for hours on the couch, of long conversations around the dinner table. This time does my heart good. Every Thanksgiv

Disclaimer: This post (like many) is for myself. I'm selfish that way. But maybe, just maybe, it'll help someone out there. Here's hoping. Now, I love a good yard as much as the next person. But I have to say: I miss New York. It certainly didn’t help that I visited my old Manhattan home one day after moving into my new suburban one—that’s a perfect recipe for nostalgia and regret. So after three days of visiting dear friends and reminiscing about my time and reveling in the