Padova

These pictures don’t hold much significance to the eye, but to me, they hold a value only I will ever know.

However, I will try with words to explain. Last year, I took risks in every area of my life. Leaps of faith became a part of my weekly routine. As a result, I found myself in situations and places I could not explain. But every now and then, there were these moments of clarity, a sensation so all-consuming that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and that all the purposeful, happy, and even not so happy accidents were taking me on a journey that was shaping me into a person who felt both familiar and, at the same time, like an exciting stranger.

I found myself in Padova, a city I had not mapped out or planned for, but due to a course of events, I was there, by myself. The minute I stepped into this city, I had this feeling I had been there before, although I knew I had not. I walked myself to dinner as the sun was setting and in a way that could only be felt with the heart, everything was so beautiful. I felt grateful to witness the world, to be in places I never planned to be, and to walk among people whose paths I was only crossing by the randomness of life. As the moon hung over this church, I felt the way you hope to feel when you travel, taken far, far away and at the same time, at peace. As someone who travels often, I know how this feeling is hoped for but rarely felt. But this day I felt it, so truly alone, and so truly, in the most bittersweet way… happy.

Late

I have always believed that I was misplaced, born at the wrong time. I try to catch up to where they tell me I'm supposed to be, but I fall behind. I’ve earned a reputation for taking my time. The urgency of others shakes me to uneasy, and the pressure to match their pace holds me back. As I struggle to find a pair of matching socks, I feel the heaviness in my feet. No matter how hard I step, the footprint remains too small. This sensation started as early as I can remember, watching my peers excel before me, as if everyone was in on a secret I did not know. This shows up in my dreams. As I sleep, my subconscious takes me to my greatest fears, and I watch myself arriving late to my prom, my graduation, childhood performances, and the wedding I have yet to have. No matter what, something always stops me from arriving when I should. I live with the fear that even if I sprint, I’ll still be last, and that if I’m last, no one will be there to greet me at the finish line. Maybe I feel this way because I’ve been misplaced. I yearn for reason in what feels like a mistake. I imagine myself living through times I’ll never get to live. What if then and there, I wouldn’t have to run?

Heading West

It felt more like coming home to myself— the familiar scent, the recognizable windows and shape of the house— I knew it all. Inside, I simply had to wipe off the dust. This is who I have always been. This realization didn't just occur during grand moments; it happened in the in-between spaces, while filling up the gas tank, engaging in conversations with strangers on trails, or embracing the silence.

When you're alone, gazing out at oceans, roadways, mountains, and lakes, there is no proof or standing ovation. "That was for you," my friend used to say whenever I noticed something she hadn't— a cute cat on the street, a funny billboard sign. As I embarked on my final descent and tears welled up, I felt a wave of nostalgia for the life I had just minutes ago, knowing that I was stepping into a new chapter while leaving behind one I had longed for. I reflected on my peaks, summits, eight-hour driving days, meals cooked amidst the trees, and all the stars I witnessed in the sky. "That was for you," I thought to myself.

Quiet Success Story

We all have quiet success stories, the ones that don't get announced, applauded, or awarded. These are the successes that have no audience, but we feel them within ourselves. Over the years, I have felt increasingly proud of the evolution of my diet because changing the way we eat is one of the hardest things to do. It can be uncomfortable, and many times, I have had to admit that I was wrong. However, I have remained hungry for knowledge about what I put in my body, resulting in empowerment. I trust myself to take care of myself, and only I will ever truly understand the value this holds. I am not a symbol of perfect health, but I feel confident that I am choosing what is best for me based on where I am at, with what I know, and with what I have. This isn't a loud story; it's simply one that I experience in the quiet moments as I sit down for a meal.