November 1st has been a pretty monumental date these past two years. Last year, I moved into a place with 4 other girls, a re-acquaintance with being single and a search for some grounding to reassess and grow confident in moving in the direction of, well, me. This year, Halloween marked move #6 – a “me” move, the kind that you say, yes, this feels right and if for no other reason, that’s more than enough. A U-haul full of great friends, amazing new roomies and charming new place was a great distraction from a would-be-anniversary and the literal ghost of lovers past. Another great friend trekked her way through karl the fog to my new hood to grab sushi dinner. The spider that jumped out at every customer exiting the restaurant reminded us of what day it was as we thew our edamame up in fright even at the millionth robotic recoil of the 8-legged door terror.

It was truly perfect.

The first order of business for the first day of the month was pulling the french press and the coffee grounds from the top of a packed kitchen box (intentional placement? you bet.) and having a three hour chat with my new roomies in PJs. An inaugural rainy morning run with the roomies and our fellow workout buddies brought more giggles in our 6am delirium as we headed out into the elements only to be greeted by the cutest little dog. Wearing a vest. With a fur hood. Whose name was Raisin. It just doesn’t get better that that.

As I reflect on my sixth move in six years, I realize that each home holds a very special purpose and lesson and prepared me for the next chapter I’m about to write as I turn this new page.

So, J, (I’ve never refered to myself as “J” – it just seemed suiting as I pictured a self-pep-talk with a chummy elbow nudge) let’s take a peek at the packing tape and cardboard that led you to where you are now – sitting in your bed made with only a fitted sheet and two pillows:

2009: Your 100-year-old, zero-insulation rent-controlled apartment has a killer view but will keep you in a fuzzy robe at most (all) hours of the day because your room backs into one of the hills that make this city so damn pretty. You have a roommate that researches alarm clocks and other whose height-to-room size ratio is way off and who is more concerned withe how the toilet is cleaned than the rat problem. In case there is another 1908 earthquake, the outside of the house is well-equipped with non-perishables and you’re pretty sure the landlords drugged-out daughter lives in the garage below the unit. Welcome to San Francisco!

2011: You get your own place. Get it, gurl. A 15-minute open house leads you to the studio of your dreams with charming San Francisco details and good bones. You host a Friendsgiving somehow manage to cook a full-on three-course meal complete with turkey and pumpkin crème brûlée in the littlest of kitchens and find cookie sprinkles months later. You feel all kinds of adult, get a real job, put you first and somehow made it through with one chef’s knife.

2013: Move in with a boyfriend. Yes, it means giving up your own place, yes, it’s a biggie but where you may question other decisions, this one is a no-brainer. The place is beautiful. Finally, hardwood floors, french doors, a new neighborhood, a favorite coffee shop and sushi restaurant and growing together.

2014: You learn the hard lesson that growing together may also mean growing-up and finding out what you stand for and what you want. It’s hard, probably the hardest thing you’ve had to do. You gain clarity on things you’ve never had to question, you learn what it’s like to love so deeply and not to discount your life-vision as shallow. You move into a pretty neighborhood with a bunch of girls who take you in warmly. Even if just a transition, it feels right and you think you can move forward here and you do.

2015: Having found your ground and a reinvigorated place in the city, you go to a neighborhood you haven’t explored yet with new friends in a beautiful place with lots of laughter and turquoise. You weren’t looking to move but this just feels right and puts you on a path to live the life you want to lead. You have a bay window again and karl is your intimate neighbor.

Next November may bring a whole other kind of change. No matter what, it will be fall, a literal turning of a new leaf. And pumpkin everything. So there’s that. As a little girl, I loved being home, change scared me and uncertainty made me very unsettled. Today I’m creating change, welcoming it, seeking it even. The little girl in me wants to think I’m crazy, wants me to press the panic button and reassess, question and second-guess everything but the adult in me wants to say go for it, give myself a high-five and walk head-first into the fog that I get to wake up to every morning in this new place and new space.