In looking back to what I've learned from 2019, I find that it means to sift through memories from a kaleidoscope of days - days that look like this: cups of tea taken in second’s to begin each day anew; frantic scribbles of notes on paper in pen, tucking them in between the pages of a growing journaling book; making heart-song the words to gilmore girl’s and lessons and memories of nora ephron films; trading wednesday nauseas for weekend plans and fear for courageous bursts; learning to unlearn the certainties of expectations and to embrace what has become the end of a four-years hum I have so long leaned on to - and to come out of it finding, unspooling in their midst, the realisation that often, it’s the imperfect days that I love the most. Days I find myself stumbling into out of best laid plans; days I could never have dreamed up in the way they have so perfectly come around. 

It all comes back to this: that what I am searching for is not a thing in and of itself, but a feeling.