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You’re about to roll your eyes at me. . . but I’m traveling again, at least for the first part of November. I know, I know––I said I was going to slow down, and I did! Then this month came in like a lion, and I’m ready for it to peace out like a lamb.

Last weekend, I was in Tampa. I went to a Tampa Bay Buccaneers game. I didn’t take myself for loving an NFL football game, but it turns out I’d have season passes if I lived there.

But let’s flashback to two years ago. I wasn’t in Tampa. I was in South Carolina.

Picture it: 2020. I had just turned 21 years old, and I found myself standing on the beach by myself one morning when everyone else was asleep.

To be frank, life kind of stunk. I had a semester of college left, no plans for my foreseeable future, and I was in a terrible relationship. I was strolling down the beach with the waves at my ankles, when a small child and his grandpa walked past me.

The image of a boy and his grandpa going on a walk on the beach made me long to be back home, surrounded by my family. Nothing was going right, and I needed my home.

In this column, I’ve written a lot about phases of life and experiencing them as a young twenty-something. Over time, this column has become a diary of sorts––I’ve shown you guys my best and worst.

Fast forward to last weekend, and I’m at the beach in a whole new phase of life, on an island just outside of Tampa. The sun was setting, and my friends and I ran to catch the last moments of it. I didn’t take a single picture. Didn’t have to.

While I wanted to remember the moment, I have it so much clearer in my mind than I do on my iPhone. Two years ago, I had photographed that beach I was standing on alone.

This year on that island, I was far from alone. I had all the company I needed.

In the end, let’s cheer for the change. Let’s cheer for this November.