I didn’t choose where I was born, but I lived there for many years. It’s a perfectly great place to live. It’s quite beautiful, the people are kind, and many folks are wildly creative. There’s nothing wrong with it whatsoever, but I didn’t choose to live there. It doesn’t actually matter where it is, because that’s not exactly the point.

Where I live now though, I really chose. I spent many years dealing with immigration. Thousands of dollars on lawyers. Thousands of dollars again to move thousands of miles, and then many thousands more to move thousands again. I must have chosen to live here—to really have chosen—because why would I do any of that otherwise.

Choosing where you live is difficult, and choosing to live far away from the folks you grew up with is harder still. Despite that, I think it’s worth doing. Worth really considering all of the places that could feel like home, and trying them on for size. Home after all (for me) is a feeling more than a place. You could feel it where you were born.

Finding that feeling is a vote for your happiness. To wake up each day and feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I didn’t feel it in my hometown. I felt it strongly in London. I (unfortunately) didn’t feel it in Brooklyn. I feel it completely now. I feel as grateful for a walk around the neighborhood as I do a hike through the hills.