Today, I went to my mom’s house to pick up the puppy and figure out what I could bring with me to fit into her space. It felt strange, bittersweet even, realizing I’m moving back home after almost six years of independence. There’s a certain weight to it—an odd mix of nostalgia and defeat, like closing a chapter you thought you’d never revisit. But maybe the universe has a plan. Maybe this is just another step in the journey I’m meant to take.

When I arrived, my mom greeted me with so much excitement. She said she missed me, and I just shrugged it off with a nonchalant “whatever.” It felt easier to brush it aside than to sit in the complicated emotions swirling inside me. Later, I joked with my sister that being in the house again felt like stepping into an IKEA catalog—everything so neat, so curated, but not quite home anymore.

The reality of the situation hit hard when I realized I’d be sleeping on the couch. No privacy. No space to call my own. But I reminded myself why I’m doing this: I’m here to grind, not to be comfortable. This isn’t forever—it’s a stepping stone.

Of course, my mom couldn’t help but bring up my old exes, hinting about inviting them over for dinner like this was some sort of reunion tour. I just told her, “Go ahead. Sure, why not?” It was easier to let her dream than to argue. Still, in a strange way, I wondered if this move could be a good thing—a chance to reset, refocus, and rebuild.

The hardest part, though, is leaving T’Challa, my cat. He’s more than a pet; he’s a piece of my heart. I want to bring him with me so badly, but I know the move would stress him out. It’s only temporary, I remind myself. I’ll visit him, and one day, I’ll give us a home where we can both breathe and thrive. For now, I have to sacrifice a little comfort, a little stability, to get us to something bigger.

It’s not easy. None of this is easy. But as I sat in my mom’s living room, surrounded by the familiarity of a life I left behind, I made a promise to myself: I’ll put in the work. I’ll grind until I get us the life we deserve. It’s bittersweet to go home, but maybe, just maybe, it’s exactly where I need to be right now.