On September 7th, under the blood moon, I marked two years since I packed my car with what I could and left Texas behind for Washington.

Today, September 9th, is my second year living here. It feels longer — maybe because so much has shifted under me. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I wanted, has been shaken.

Lately it feels like my head has been floating, disconnected from my body, waiting for gravity to drop it back onto my neck. My arms flail in the air, desperate to touch something solid. Something smooth and familiar, like the curve of my own skull. And when I finally do, I know I’ll never want to let go.

Two years feels like a long time because maybe I was always supposed to be here. Maybe my head isn’t floating at all — maybe it’s right where it belongs.

I hope you never feel like your head is drifting away. And if you do, I hope you continue to reach for it until your arms finally find it again.