Dear Diary, I want to tell you about how I found myself right back at home.

It's funny how life can bring you back to places you've been before, even when you didn't know you needed it.

When I first moved to New York in 2019, I knew I was searching for something. And considering I didn't have a job, didn't know many people, and then with the world shutting down…well, let's just say I had a lot of time to start figuring out what that was.

During Covid, NYC was such a ghost town that we couldn't even ride the subway, so basically every week I would pack a bag and take a Revel scooter (RIP, if you know you know) to Prospect Park. It was safe, outside, and felt like a removal from the city without actually leaving.

I'd spend the entire afternoon there reading, people watching, calling friends and, of course, journaling: AKA beginning to understand that I have a larger story to tell and that I might actually want to tell it. (These stories might not exist if not for those days.)

It became such an important place for me to be with myself, and I hadn't even realized its weight.

Then life began to pick up again. I made more friends, hopped back into dating, got busy with work…so that routine ended up changing. Eventually I moved out of Bushwick and into lower Manhattan.

And my Prospect Park afternoons became a memory.

…

It's been about 5 years since then, and I've brought myself back to Brooklyn.

Even though that amount of time has relatively been a drop in the bucket of my life, it still feels like I've come back to my roots in a way. Many people welcomed me "home" that first week back, and it really has felt like that.

The last few years have been a bit of a whirlwind. So I've been trying to relearn myself, and part of that process has been intentionally putting myself in some of the routines I had before the world came back to life with a hungry vengeance that I know we've all felt.

Moving my body is a major part of that. Meaning that I'm back to running a few miles every Saturday morning, because in addition to keeping my heart healthy, it's always been a good way for my mind to roam.

Since I live in a new neighborhood, I've been intentionally choosing a different route every time to learn the area. This past Saturday I decided to run toward Prospect Park, because I live close to it now, and it's an easy path in that direction.

Once I made my way through the entrance, I had to pause and look around.

Why did this feel so familiar?

Of course, it's a park I've been to 100 times before, whether by myself or with friends, but this entrance felt like I knew it.

And then it hit me: this was exactly the section of the park I would spend all my time in 5 years ago…how?

Since I was so new to the city back then, I didn't really know what area I was in, and I guess I didn't feel a need to remember it after I stopped going. So I never logged this part of the park in my brain after I moved on.

But it was unmistakable.

Not only was this the same place that kept me going all those years ago with books, people watching, wondering about the world…it was now the entrance to the park from my new home.

Somewhere from within, I let out a breath. The kind you let out when you know you're safe, even if you weren't feeling unsafe.

Just when I needed it again: a gentle confirmation from the universe that I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

🖊️ A.