life lately

A New Chapter Unfolding

The past few weeks have felt like a whirlwind.

Somewhere between packing boxes, late-night pizza, and teary hugs goodbye, time has moved both fast and slow. Life lately has been full—of family moments, chaos, change, and quiet in-between pauses that felt heavier than usual.

We’ve finally moved into our new house.

Even writing that sentence feels surreal. It’s still full of clutter, echoing with the sound of unfinished spaces—but it’s also full of potential. A blank canvas to gently grow into, one shelf and corner at a time. It’s not perfect (yet), but it’s ours.

And yet—something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately is how people often expect joy to be the only emotion during a move. As if new beginnings should somehow erase the sadness of leaving something behind.

But this apartment… it was never just a place. I lived there for nine years. That space held me through so much. Through quiet Sunday mornings and chaotic Tuesday nights. Through COVID lockdowns, when the walls felt both safe and suffocating. Through love, heartbreak, healing. Through the puppy days, when everything smelled like treats and newness. Every room, every corner, carries memories.

Leaving that space behind felt like leaving a version of myself, too.

So yes, I know this move is good. I know we’re growing. I know we’re making room for more—more space, more light, more future.

But there’s also grief in growth. And I think we should be allowed to name that. To sit in it for a moment. To say goodbye with full hearts.

I’ve been a little quieter online—life demanded my full attention. And I wanted to give it that.

There were days I forgot to check my phone and others when I sat by the window, watching the light shift across unfamiliar walls, feeling all the feelings at once. It’s been a time of holding on and letting go. Of saying goodbye to the comfort of what we loved and knew, and learning to trust in the unknown.

Now that June is nearly behind us, I feel like I can breathe again.

We’re settling. Slowly, softly. Finding new rhythms. It’s not about rushing to have it all figured out—it’s about learning to romanticize even the mess: the pile of books without a shelf, the sound of bare feet on unfamiliar floors, the first cup of coffee brewed in a half-unpacked kitchen.

So here’s to the new season. To beginnings that feel like home.

To the quiet beauty of starting again.

Thank you for being here, even when I’ve been away. I’ll be sharing more soon—snippets of our new space, small joys, and real life as it unfolds.

Waves of love, always.
Ines