Four months ago, my friend created space to live in community with other women. She opened her home to myself and another friend. We embarked on this journey together of female friendship and shared experience. We began to create a family, a tribe, a home base. A safe place. And in the garden where the seeds of love were planted, a life of kindred souls has emerged. I am home.

Yesterday, I shared with my soul sisters my current struggle with food. Food and I have had a storied past and my latest struggle sprouted out of a new workout regime, a vegetarian-paleo diet and allergies to wheat and coconut. I confided that my hunger was all consuming. That I was unsure of what to eat and felt as if I could never get enough. My sisters listened and loved me without judgement. They encouraged a day of rest from the gym and offered to help.

Today, I came home to smells of food in the oven and on the stove. A refrigerator full of vegetables, avocados and zucchini on the counter and sweet potatoes and onions in the pantry. With steam wafting through the house, she explained: here is an egg casserole that you can take with you. Here is a vegetable stir fry with leafy greens and brussel sprouts. Here are more on-the-go vegetables.

Here is a house full of love and tenderness. Here is a hand to hold while you figure this out. Here is my friendship, my understanding, my hands, my heart.

Tears are the only response that adequately conveys this moment. To be seen and loved. To be cared about and cared for. To sit in the grace of kinship, abundant love sprouted in this chosen community. This tribe, this love, this moment. I am humbled and grateful. I am blessed.

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