A few years later, here I am, realizing home isn’t singular, that you don’t lose one, but rather your world and your heart expand with each new home and new set of experiences, each new self and new street. The old ones stay, precious and tender, unlocked occasionally by a bite or a moment. And the new ones make your heart bigger and bigger, and your world bigger and bigger. New York is my home. And Chicago is my home. And Aaron is my home. And more than anything, I’ve learned the hard way what it means to come home to myself, deeper than a city, deeper than a circle of relationships or shared
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