The Reset I Didn't Know I Needed
It's been a year since I moved to Virginia. And in that year, I went home a handful of times. But every time I went back to New York, there was always something competing for my time. Something I had to do, somewhere I needed to be, a task that couldn't wait. The visit would happen around the edges of everything else, and I'd leave feeling like I'd been there without really being there.
This time, I decided to do it differently.
I took time off from work. No agenda. No errands squeezed in between family time. I went home with one intention: to just be with my people. And I'm so glad I did.
The thing about missing people
I talk to my family every single day. FaceTime, phone calls, group chats. I know what's going on in their lives. I know conceptually that I miss them. But it's not until I'm physically in their presence that I feel the weight of how much I've actually been carrying that distance.
It hit me the moment I walked into my parents' house. Used my key. Saw my mother and father sitting there on the couch. And they just welcomed me in like I'd never left. That exhale, that's the one you can't get over a phone screen.
My niece greeted me the way she always does. This rambunctious, wide-open, full-of-life little girl, who doesn't hold anything back. Being around her reminds me of my own childlike spirit, the part of me that gets quiet when I'm in work mode or grown-up mode. She brings that out just by being herself.
My sisters. The kind of laughing where your body hurts and you can't explain why it's that funny, but it is. That kind of laughter is medicine. Real medicine.
My brother, with whom I can sit and talk about ideas and what we're building.
My parents, whom I can just hug. And melt into. There's nothing like that. Nothing.
What this trip taught me
Time is precious, which I like to think we all know, but I mean it in the most honest way I can say it: the time we have with the people we love is not unlimited, and the way we choose to spend it says everything about what we value.
I'd been telling myself I was making time for family. But what I was really doing was fitting them in around everything else. There's a difference between being in the same room as someone and being present with them. This trip, I chose presence. And it changed everything.
Did my family get on my nerves? Absolutely. That's part of it, too. But I love them, the messy, the loud, the too much, that's the texture of being in a real relationship with people, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
The questions I'm sitting with
This experience made me ask myself some things, and I want to ask you too:
How are you choosing to spend your time with the people who fill you up? Are there gaps? Are you not making the time? Is something competing with it? Are you conflicted about wanting to make that time?
And it doesn't have to be blood family. Your chosen family counts just as much. The people who hold you, who see you, who let you be your full self without performing. How are you actively being in community with those people?
I also understand that some of those dynamics are challenging. Family relationships aren't always easy. But something that remains true is this: how do you want to show up in those dynamics? You get to decide that. Every time.
Home is wherever I am
Moving to Virginia was the best decision I've ever made for my growth. Leaving New York gave me space to expand my wings in ways I couldn't have if I'd stayed. I needed that distance to become who I'm becoming.
But I also know that home is always going to be where my family is. And being able to return to that, to walk through that door and be received with that kind of love is a gift. Especially while they're still here.
So this is my reminder to myself, and to you: don't wait for the perfect time. Don't fit the people you love around everything else. Put them at the center, even if it's just for a few days. Even if it means taking time off. Even if it means letting everything else sit on the back burner for a while.
Because that? That is the reset.