As I transition over to this new (york) city, I’m filled with memories from all the places I’ve lived and loved - all of things which bring me a sense of peace from within, especially when I lose my grounding at times. And when I am able to reflect on these moments, I am brought back to my roots, my childhood, and some of my innermost feelings (...I've got lots of these).

As time moves forward, we fall into variations of cycles in life. Once upon a childhood, my grandpa would scrunch my tights upon his hands, and create an opening for me to easily slip my feet into. Then upon some time later, I grew old enough to do it myself. I remember the day I slipped my socks on myself, with mixed feelings, knowing this signified a change of things, where I would slowly depend less on them, and more of myself. This summer, I find myself scrunching his socks around my hands as we sit quietly at the edge of the bed while I help him slide his feet into the openings. I guess I would never have gotten here if I had skipped step 2 in learning how to put my own socks on.

I want to dedicate this post to my grandparents, who have been my support since I popped out of my mama and right into their arms. My grandparents (and parents of course) have been more than great support, but also some of my truest friends in life. I am so lucky to have had them as such a constant in this life. Who knows what I'd be like if I hadn't... Maybe I'd like small children more than I do seniors... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Here are some shots of life back home in Seattle from this summer, after his socks went on.