Last week, a text arrived from an old friend. “Thank you for your forgiveness,” it began.

Radical change doesn’t always happen in a flash. It can arrive as a whisper, dropping hints over the years of something new to come.

When I was in college, I studied in Spain for a year. Arriving back on campus, I needed a place to live. Luckily, one of my besties from high school offered me space in her apartment, along with three of her friends.

I touch the cool doorknob and turn the handle. The door opens and I pause on the outside stoop for a moment, then slowly step down the stairs – one, two, three. I look up and feel the sun warm my face. The soft spring breeze whispers, and the birds sound happy. I slowly, carefully place one foot in front of the other, down the little walkway. Arriving at the sidewalk, I turn and continue on. I pick up the pace, a little faster now. There is a pleasant, smooth sound to my thick-soled Hoka sneakers, squishy rubber against the hard pavement. Pat-pat-pat, steady I go, hearing each footfall.