Letters About Home

Years ago for my birthday my friends bought me this book called "Letters to my Future Self". It's a book filled with envelopes that fold out to become blank lined pages. You're meant to fill the book with letters based on the prompts. You seal it with a sticker and note when you wrote it and when it should be opened. A paper time capsule.

Two nights into living in our new place I came across this book as I was unpacking. I flipped through and happened upon a letter that I was meant to open on August 30, 2020.

As fate would have it, the letter was about home and it was written the evening before I moved, three homes and four years ago.

I (obviously) cried reading this letter and right in the centre of chaos, 2017 me offered 2021 me a slice of peace. What matters most is not whether or not we will ever have a bed frame (though that would be v nice) or shelves hung, it's the love, warmth, and energetic feeling of home. It's the gratitude for being safely housed in this time and in this city where many are not. This rings especially true now when for many, home is the only place we can be.

✍🏿✍🏾✍🏽✍🏼✍🏻What does home feel like to you? When you walk inside, what do you smell, what do you hear, what signals your senses that you're home?

💕💕As I'm unpacking and reflecting on home I am thinking often of the public health crisis that is housing in Toronto. I made a donation to the Encampment Support Network, a volunteer-run organization supporting neighbours living in encampments. As you reflect, maybe you'll feel a similar pull towards community care. Check out @esn.to.4real for more ways to support.