One of the sweetest things about this daring and new phase of life, this settling into marriage and days in a different city, is the establishment of new traditions. Ask anyone who knows me well at all, they'll tell you that I am a traditions fanatic. Maybe it's that I'm the youngest of the fam. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe it's just in the threads of my being. Whatever it is (I'm going with the latter), I can't stop.

At first, I've mourned the loss of well-known traditions- ones that felt like home and comfort. The ease and habits of having female roommates. The way I could hole away at any time for personal renewal. The family dinners we'd established in college. My coffee shops, my frequented locations. The music I'd always listen to. These things were part of my composure, I thought. But what I'm finding is that I haven't lost them entirely. Sure, some of them were and will only be circumstantially confined to my college days. But that's okay. Because truly, they're not gone. They're still here. They're simply being polished and refined as they converge with those of my husband. 

And when I think about it, that's a really, really sweet thing. That's one of the most precious things that could happen to a person.